Buried (Draft 2)

In the abyss of this cave
her music is my light, my film.

The visions of her sing for me,
caressing me in my memory,
a valley of duets.

Darkness plagues me like a dirge
yet I hear the Siren notes
to note her love haunting.

She is my concert here;
her songs comfort me

I am not afraid of thunder
nor shake, yet
I am her bass note
and she is my coloratura

Let there be light;
I will sing.

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