As fragile nights play
with gray streaks,
masters meet their game.
Silence, stellar, throned.
Whirlwinds away from destruction,
the two sit,
heady in their own
pools of melody.
They sit on wild stones
and yet they sit still.
They sit on innocent fears
and misread tears
hoping to catch a glance
of settled emotions.
Careless they sit.
Is this It?
It is This.
(pause) to appreciate
a source of light,
on this fragile nightc
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