Whenever the moon sits upon the horizon
and paints the black water with patterns of lace,
soft moonbeams will bathe me in luminous whispers;
its gossamer threads wrap me in an embrace.
Dim flickers of light shift among constellations;
a language of colors ~ a subtle design.
The Night Wind sits by me explaining its meaning,
he tells me of secrets known to the Divine.
The coolness of ev'ning rests on my bare shoulders;
I feel the Night swathe me in capelets of dew,
communing with zephyrs that feather the droplets,
reveals a hushed layer where all things are true.
Whenever you listen to whispers at midnight,
awareness will guide you and open your ears.
You'll find in the language of breezes and moonlight,
pure wisdom the Ancients have hidden for years.
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