The Night casts Her dark illusion
Holding the Moon’s hand in uncertainty
The stars puncture Her curtain
With whispers of wishes and dreams
The Wise Man holds his own lamp
Of flickering enlightenment
He searches his reflection
Mirrored in the Moon
He cuts through the Night’s blinding spell;
He separates himself from the dream
The light of his lamp will no longer falter,
For the fueling oil floats above the Night’s watery reverie
May the Night dance across the sky
Reaching, but never seeing
May the Moon rule the fluxing waters
Which blur the path ahead
May the Wise Man caution the fools
Who whisper back to the stars