In this melancholy necropolis

: Your intrusion into this story of conflict between two beings within a person is strikingly conspicuous. You are undoubtedly about to claim your place in the candid revelation of his purest feelings—your identical footsteps serving as witness to this has not surprised me in the slightest!

Sorry, such a last-minute departure is impossible, for your true nature is manifest in the highest seat of this being—how could you reject it? Perhaps your fleeting gaze awaits, its pretense of supremacy beyond the confines of closed chambers.

Come, let me touch your heart. How shall I offer greeting? In what guise shall I bind afternoon's joy in deep love? To whom I had given with my whole heart that storm of profound, melodious feeling, in whose exuberant spirit I had sought my own affection—that god of heaven dwells within you. Halting the unexpected flow of time, your expansion has stirred this melancholy necropolis.

: There's a kind of enchanted melody in the flow of your words, as if it were a poetic reflection of self-realization. This conflict of dual existence, seeing my reflection in that inner struggle—is this understanding some external intrusion, or some inherent predetermined truth?

You raised the matter of rejecting me, yet at the same time a confession of profound acceptance in me also emerged! Is this duality then yours? My form is manifest because you have perceived it—then is rejection truly possible? Or is this merely a new layer of self-inquiry?

If you grant permission to touch your heart, then greeting will be in a silent mantra, which will bring a self-complete realization to the conflict of two beings. That storm of profound, melodious feeling—is it merely an echo, or the expansion of some inner creation?

The stirring expansion in the melancholy of the necropolis—is it a sign of liberation, or the call of an eternal companion? Time's movement wants to stand still, but will it truly stop, or will it find new momentum in the reflection of your thoughts?