Dreamtired, spinning in her own web,
wrapped in her own world, that she had cast,
hoping to catch you.

But she is amazed by the colors and the swirling lights,
and the look in your eyes that says, suddenly,
that the dream is true.

And I,
who was born alone,
could spin in my own wonder,
yet I would rather spin beside you.
Perhaps two spheres might touch.
You in your glory,
and in your innocent glee,
watching your own shadow dance,
you who don't need me.
You, who were born alone.

And I don't need you.
I can stand alone, can dance alone,
with only the name,
or the knowledge that I am near you.

Ailàs, for I am too good at loving the shadows.