The light declines in waning gold


    Amidst the stars now ashen-grey,


    Lost in the pallor of decay,


    Silence in the gathering cold.


    Now, in lunar interludes,


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.The soul at last finds its rest,


    and in the darkness makes its nest


    In shadows where the silence broods;


    And from the soul new light is born,


    that then this world now passes by;


    To me it seems the futile sigh


    Exhaled by distant moons forlorn.