Who calls by my name?
Who calls me in this silent trice,
In the solitude of my maudlin
Mind?
The weak yet inexorable call.
The soft darkness falls as dews in placid
Bourn.
The light flickers after the set of the Sun,
In the dolorous serenade of my being.
The last call and the cogent.
The sound shrill with sonorous meet
to bid goodbye.
The silent call and the most heroical,
to free me from the pungent pain the life offers
to me.
I will come and respond to this inner invitation.
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