I’m searching for the golden key
That fits the ancient door.
Long ago, I walked these halls;
fear echoing through my heart.
In my dreams, you whispered
words pure as falling snow.
But like the clouds that float above,
Their essence slipped away.

Within the shadows of frozen fear
lie patterns, imprints, golden threads,
weaving a story of someone’s life:
The telltale pitter-patter of a heart
that had no time to break.
Too late – your message came.
The phantoms had become my friends.
Fleeting shapes that make no sound,
rise and fall as midnight mist.

I‘m searching for the golden key
As you insist I will one day exit
this dimension and gain insight
into another realm. Only then
may I remember that long ago
I walked by your side within
the shadows of another era,
seeking refuge against a fear
from which you assured me
I would one day be free.