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The older I get, the more I understand,
that it's not the battles that matter,
but the soft shelter of your arms,
and a home where I am always comforted
For in the end, on this path
I seek not the lights of splendour,
only the warmth of your sincere hand,
the essence of an affection that is love.
There are no echoes of screams left
nor shadows that flaunt fear,
only an embracing and serene home,
where love paints walls of time.