If I were the morning sun,
I would rise with the dawn,
warm your hands and face,
and fill the air you breathe
with my golden vigilance;
I would chase from your soul the ghosts
your dreams called from the tomb of the night.
If I were the night, I would shape
a starry dome to shelter your every step;
I would protect you as I believed
the gods once protected me,
but I am not the night or the morning sun;
I am only a man in love with the twilight.
When a dark wind blows in your soul
and life rains down on your head,
when it is autumn in your heart
and all the yellow leaves you used
to clothe your fear fall to your feet,
when the gods dismantle your world, brick by brick,
no matter what I want, no matter what I feel,
you will have to tame those monstrous, bitter hours
with a will of your own making.
Only remember, that you are never alone,
that there is a man who loves you
for what you are becoming,
that he leans out toward you
from what window he has,
wishing more than the gods allow,
when you feel most abandoned.