The Owl Who Spoke to the Moon

Beneath the cloak of silent skies,

An owl awoke with ancient eyes.

Its feathers brushed the midnight air,

A whisper born of thought and care.



It perched upon a twisted tree,

A keeper of life’s mystery.

Its gaze was deep, its voice was slow,

A song of things we’ll never know.

“Who,” it called, so soft, so clear,

A question meant for every ear.

Not just a sound, but something more,

A riddle knocking at the door.

The stars leaned close, the wind stood still,

The forest bowed to the owl’s will.

For in its hoot, the truth was found,

A wisdom lost yet all around.

It watches paths we cannot take,

It knows the choices we must make.

A guardian of the dark and deep,

It holds the dreams we leave in sleep.

So if you hear its haunting tune,

Somewhere beneath the silver moon,

Remember this—its call is true,

A silent gift it gives to you.

Would you dare to meet its eyes,

And see beyond the world’s disguise?

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