Under The Moon

January 30, 2005

Hidden from the darkened ones

He sleeps his days in silence

With no sight of the cloud-suns

Or death that waits beneath them

He was promised long ago

The strains of a distant minstrel

In his mind his whole life through

And still, on the peaceful shoal

There is the whispering hint

That his oath’s token remains still

Fair music follows his path

As the winds blow his fair hair

As no other sound he can touch

In this which he did not ask

He is silent as he walks

Under the moon in the night

And is patient to wait until

He can walk in daylight too

Without fear of his cold foes

Who have ever hated the wanderers.

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