Before us waits the purple night,
which sends its echoes far and wide--
Its wisdom paints a palette of stars,
which sleep amid the pale moonlight.

The night dissolves in lustrous beams,
like roses kissed by flowing rains--
And violets pressed within each page,
of sainted bibles from ancestral chains.

Hearts float among the stirring sounds,
releasing tales of pain and sorrow--
Then echoes reach to touch the soul,
in mystical waves caressing tomorrows.

If only the echoes of night would allow,
the cycle of life's defining story--
To cast the sunshine in heavenly light,
rebounding in secret their majestic glory.