Loss.
R
Robert Crawford
0
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She gave the day its heart of fire,
She gave the night her soul of flame;
The sun and moon translated through
Her love as gods became.
She filled me with unearthly strength,
A power not of my own was mine;
She passed, and crumbled into dust
And ashes my divine.
The Night knows not how fair she is
Before the stars come in the sky:
It is the light within ourselves
We see ourselves and others by.
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