I am the echo of old whispers past
a dream of a dream, an old womans last
I am the kiss in the dark of the night
a warming shadow to chase away the fright
I am the willow, tall green and strong
showing my hoar leaves in the river long
I am the prayer you tell every day
giving you my reserves of strength in every way
I am the girl they said would lose all her sight
then, without eyes, gained a new visions light
I am the writer of poems and lore
telling of heroes, of villains, and settled scores
I am the violin player who’s song is so sad
who plays in the good weather, and sometimes the bad
I am the lover who held you as you cried
because you feared the worlds deepening lie
but I am not the strongest, not the richest or the wise
you put your weight upon me, no matter the size
I carry you despite how my knees shake or feet bleed
when you are afraid and follow, I am the one to lead
and I’ll tell you a secret which most oft forget
a recondite cypher of old seasons regret
for i am the summer come the end of july
i bloom for a while then I ripen and die

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