The trees wallow in the distance.

Their voices aren’t heard.

They scream but their sound is
simmered by the sobbing moans of
withering flowers.

They are masked in a shadow
of shimmering light,
gleaming and glistening.

They long for that perfection.

But alas the worn, tethered branches keep them from ever being so.

The sky darkens as the creatures go to sleep.

The light dances in the dark,
bouncing, twirling, twinkling.

The hidden desire of the light is only found in darkness,
for its shimmer only shines from the moons beams.

But beams strike the light too quickly, and the shimmer vanishes.

The desire awakes,
a newfound passion for the trees to listen.

It’s dance is the only way the trees will be heard.
The wallows are hushed for the light to see.

But almost as quickly as the beam strikes, the desire disappears.

For the darkness that overpowered them is too strong for the light to shine anymore.