Spark In the Woods
I hold a fire in my hand
And the flame is you,
In the forest
Where every tree is you,
Walking on the road
Each brick is you,
Under the starry sky
The lone moon is you,
Hearing the voices
Nightingale is you,
Among all ill in these woods
All the glee is you,
Yet when I look for your hand,
To hold with one without the flame
Everything around is you,
Except you.
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