Like the blackness in the abode of my deceived eyes,
Or the whisper to the hearth of my empty soul,
Echoing quarrels as to what it desires or what is essential.
They dispute over nothingness, for what I perceive,
As my adoration for you leaps mountains and miles
To wonder; to awe.
To ponder on the uncertainty,
Will your love for I be the twin of mine?
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