I have a great familiarity with the night
Midieval conscious flowering in flight
I wish to speak to you soon
In the light of the moon
Don't fall from me
My words will slip through the grass, and the dew  
Your presence a subtle, comforting silk sinew, and carry on

Shower me in the forests embrace
The birds call, the pollen's jolly mace
What do I do from the ember burning low
When a fire has come to warm my home
Your posting smile, I wish to want to behold

Please beckon my drunken call
The sticks, the leaves, the silent waterfall
I only could dream I knew the rings of the oak
Instead I count the thoughts on the night that we spoke
Where, if at all, will the spring's roots grow.

Those hours spin on
In great rememberence, divine demi-consciousness  
And I only wish to you
To spill the cup from which I drank
And start it all anew.