Oh shifting sun, in silence
does the resonance of moonlight still reflect
the light of day, the truth that you beget?

These hidden things, inside sepulchral night
administered by lunar light
within our minds and hearts excite
yet still prolong regret

When we are surely stolen there
within the glow of darkness’ heir
does truth, aloof, in depth repair
or is there hindrance yet?

I coast alone through lands of dreams
to lay away without esteem
and bask through melting, as it seems
my self should thus reset

Could in the morning light, again,
thy transcendence defy chagrin?
Should I be not what is akin
if therein lies my debt?