a perfection that he would never touch again
now, i understand why i also admire himÂ
he who freely dances with the shadow but his gaze is not far from the memories of the past
when he promised that he enjoyed the warmth of the lightÂ
i admire his soft words which turned out not only to the light
i admire the series of poems he sent every time the light began to dimÂ
and he was too kind because he is not only good to the light
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