A linden sways in Berlin’s air,
soft and still, yet drifting where
it once had danced in golden light,
now falling, fading out of sight.
Once it stood, so strong, so free,
born of spring’s sweet memory.
Once it warmed in summer’s grace,
now autumn’s breath has torn its place.
Yet long before the cold winds came,
I was the storm, I bore the rain.
I dimmed your light, I broke your soul,
never knowing the weight, the toll.
Your roots, once deep, began to fade,
drowned in shadows my heart had made.
And though I never wished you pain,
my weight was yours to bear in vain.
And as our leaves drift to the ground,
we stand as ghosts, lost, unfound.
For you, my light, my heart, my stay,
are gone—and all is cold and grey.
Love once held me close to you,
like roots that held my world in view.
But without you, what remains?
An empty vessel, a soul in chains.
So now I call the wind once more,
to bear us where no sorrows soar,
to dance again, then set us free,
a fleeting breath upon the sea.
Through restless tides and whispering trees,
it sings of loss, it hums of peace,
it stirs my soul, it beats my mind,
then leaves no trace of us behind.
Yet know this truth, to most unknown—
leaves will never die alone.
They follow where the love is blown.
