She is
entranced
in the little,
endless hums
of the night,
they are
soft spoken
mysteries,
gentle
whispers
in the
wind by the
poet’s pen
in stroke of
the fabric of
pages with
visions
written by
sonorous
hums of the
deep sea
arms of
the cosmos
in a flower
undying,
opening
in the eyes
of the one
who have
known
the dark
to cherish
the light,
unfading
in bloom,
she rises
from the
long,
waking
daydream,
drifted by
the seas of
the moon
to the
shore,
where
she rests,
gazing
upon
the tides
until the
sun is in
advent,
the earth
awakens,
deeper
than
stars, the
unsullied
sleep and
breathe,
they too, are
timeless.
