Far-falling from a distant heaven,


    A gentle radiance in the nightward sea


    drifts down, pale and faded


    reflections of a wayward glory.


    The day, a dying memory,


    Wanders in the shadows,


    in gardens lulled with a phantom light.


    A soft music drifts in eternity,


    a song sung by crickets and nightbirds


    who bear the burden of the murmured night.


    Wingless yet the midnight seemed


    a garden untouched by the gaze of any


    but the silver divinity


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.that watches over the night.


    A soft wind blows through


    the pensive, dream-filled hours,


    and moonlight flutters


    like a windblown moth


    between the shadows of the trees


    and the creatures of the night.


    They linger there


    In lofty pallor shrouded,


    in ivory song; a colder melody,


    a crescent rune that bears


    the invocation of sorceries


    and hidden summonings,


    magic folded in the blossoming


    of a night-bloom:


    a flower''s moon-measured lullaby.