In the middle of the night
Not a single soul in sight
Not the slightest sound to hear
So what can there be for me to fear?
But though all sense and feel be naught
There’s a sense that can’t be fought
Lay there deep within a man
Surpassing doubt, thought or plan
In it I am found, and equally lost
Past all prize and beyond all cost
It purrs and burns in no small part
It is the cry of the deep, dear heart.
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