No safer refuge has a lonesome traveller than the night,
Nor nobler company than kindred sorrows of the moon.
For all my melancholy years, the dark has wept with me
In solitude; a thousand shadows with my heart commune
In wordless poetry, lamenting in our common plight.
From nebulous gloom, swirling vapours yield a silhouette
Akin to no familiar form; apostles of the dusk
Emerge from in their native shadow veiled in silken night,
Emancipated from the searing daylight’s gaudy husk
And cast in peerless truth as only darkness can beget.
To walk the world by moonlight is a sacrament; to breathe
The hallowed silver air is to immerse oneself in grace.
And seldom is a vision so sublime as that of dusk,
When countless vanities that constitute the commonplace
Subside beneath the mystic paths that stars and moonbeams weave.
When all chaotic voices still, a primal serenade
Of whispers emanates from shadowed regions of the world;
A dusky magic sinks into the earth, and floral bells
Of regal amethyst resplendent in the gloom unfurl,
Enticing from the heart of nightfall’s own celestial glade.
The forest floor is paved with moonlight: streams of spectral white
Converging in the heart of darkness bear a solemn bond
To all who wander aimless and alone throughout this life;
Nocturnal claims you as her own beneath these raven boughs,
Her love will bring you peace amid the purity of night.