By the river sits my heart and, being a heart, bleeds into the rain. In counter-point run the sable rivulets of nights, the star-infected blanket of evening.
By the river sits my heart and, being a river, it sings into the rain. In reverent harmony run the sable shoulders of nights, the star-emblazoned scarf of vespers.
By the river sits my heart and, being a human, I cry into the rain. In distant company run the sable embraces of nights, the star-adorned enfolding of a midnight tide.
By the end sits my heart and, being who I am, I whisper to the rain. Listening intently sits the sable song of nights, the star-punctured intonation of dying light.
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