Echoes of the Night

Beneath the shroud of midnight’s guise,

Where shadows breathe and silence flies,

The moon, a sentinel, softly gleams,

Guiding lost hearts through drifting dreams.

It casts a silver, sacred glow,

On quiet hills and fields below,

Where whispering winds begin to weave,

The tales that only night believes.

Through meadows where wild petals dance,

In time’s slow waltz, a soul’s romance,

The air is thick with fragrant grace,

A hush that time cannot replace.

The night unveils its velvet page,

Inscribed with stars, both young and sage,

A testament to what has been,

And what the heart still dares to dream.

Each star, a note in heaven’s tune,

A whisper cradled by the moon,

In that vast, eternal sprawl,

Where every soul belongs to all.

Nebulas bloom like painted fire,

Kindling thought and deep desire,

In cosmic seas of endless scope,

We sail on waves of distant hope.

The breeze intones in gentle rhyme,

A lullaby that halts all time,

Through rustling leaves and distant sighs,

It speaks of truth that never dies.

In every gust, a story flows,

Of love that blooms and sorrow goes,

Of kings and dreamers, lost and found,

All written in the sky’s great bound.

So linger where the hours freeze,

Beneath the hush of sleeping trees,

Let dusk consume your weary flame,

And cleanse your soul of fear and blame.

For in the stillness, vast and bright,

You’ll find the soul’s eternal light

A world where wonder holds you tight,

Embraced by echoes of the night.