Be the one to squeeze my hand,

As I gaze at the freckled beauty of life.

Be the one to keep the mug of spent coffee,

On the bright side of the shadows,

As my wandering mind reflects,

The play of light and dark,

That consoles the wooden table with its paradoxes.

Be the one to give me the pen,

And the silent encouragement that comes with it,

In my fleeting moments of inspiration.

Be the one who's eyes lend me their vision,

That I may see the world anew.

Be the one to keep me afloat,

In the dizzying ocean of absolutism,

That I may stay true to who I am.

Be the one to colour these walls around me,

To kindle the fire of curiosity that has lain dormant and cold for so long.

Be the one to know that this needs no ending.

The End

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