To the Mystery II
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I hear her whispers,
She calls to me:
Cut through the bonds
of life, be free.
She starts to sing,
I have no choice,
I have to follow
her sweet voice.
To her pale beauty
I am drawn
until I find myself
at the cold harsh dawn.
Of her presence
there is no trace
but for lips unseen
that caress my face.
'Soon' she promises,
then disappears.
I touch my cheek.
It is wet with tears.