The Pull

I do not fear the restless,
I do not fear the cold.
What I fear is someone who
Comes and takes my soul at hold.

As a whirlwind, they snatch
It from me, and I am left with
Empty hands. Destruction lay in wake
Of the path where that willowy finger falls.

I do not fear the silent,
I do not fear the bold.
What I fear is the day shall
Last, whilst I grow steadily old.

A day with perfect beauty, everything
Glowing starlight. But I feel
It drain the life of me
While the ruthless midnight falls.

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