May 27, 2005

Shadows flow with a rising moon.
pinpricks of light adorn the skies,
creating a sheen of blue-white eyes.

wind blows through the trees a tune,
tribute to the fast growing silence
here, now, is a peace little known
in a world where mere men roam.

there is no trace of violence
to mar the world that silence rules.
it may be invaded only
in whispering, “I love thee…”
which echoes softly in the skies’ bright jewels.

magic of this weaving dark
strengthens the soul, touches and heals
with the peace of sleep it wields.
rare is one in whom Night has not left her mark.


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