I grow wild at twilight
gold on my skin
like a last sprout that forgot its place in the garden
The mercy of the sun caresses me as I dream
yet the dream sears into me signs of light
a seal of fire upon a naked soul

No one hears
the whisper rising from the earth to me
no one sees
how the silence grows roots of loneliness within me

And loneliness is not a wound
it is an angel standing guard at the gate
for whoever has not yet learned
to listen to the echo within his heart
cannot hear another
through his own flesh

There is a terrible beauty in being alone
a beauty unbearable in daylight
for only at night
does god touch the wounded human
and remind him:
you must be whole within yourself
in order to open to another soul

And when I come to love
I shall turn pale in a new light
not of grace
but of understanding

There is beauty in the small death of each day
between breath's
as if the world exhales into me
to see if a spark still lives inside

I grow wild at dusk
With gold on my skin