Let the night fall, let shadows creep, where whispered secrets do not sleep. The world grows quiet, soft, and cold, and every heartache starts to unfold.
Beneath the stars, the air is thin, a fragile edge of loss within.
The streets are empty, the winds are slow, carrying echoes of long ago.
I walk alone where darkness bends, where sorrow starts but never ends. Each step a tremor, each breath a sigh, the night a mirror of my mind’s sky.
Yet in the hush, a subtle grace, a trembling calm, a resting place.
The night may fall, the hours may bend, but in its depth, my wounds may mend.
So let it come, the velvet veil, the quiet storm, the soft travail. For even darkness, deep and tall, can hold the soul and cradle all.
