Like morning dew set like a duvet over the frail grass

mist laying thick but yet frail and thin like glass


stars still glooming on Gaea's black arch far above

pines resting deep until dawn calm thereof


the silence only broken by a mourning dove

not breaking, being of the serenity one of


only at times as these I can feel at bay

my own doubts can not even make me sway


for once I feel whole...