Sleep, smooth as a glassy tide,
Eternal problems resolved,
Simplified and glorified,
Politics, pure fantasy, unresolved;

But the tide, that swell of the unknown,
Waiting for that fateful daily pause,
As the myriad of airy sprays are blown
Over earth's face, with all her ancient flaws;

As air swirl like muslin, in sea's spray's,
Give me your hand, and let us rest,
In moon's caress and soft rays,
With the night's nocturn's unstressed;

Life’s cruel, with no vintage from other shores,
To fire my tired and jaundiced heart,
Limp hands and flickering eyes without shine,
A body strain’ng to grasps those floating air's parts;

Alas let’s not forget to hope, discreetly,
Our heart, of each of us stays intent and learns,
Dur'ng those calm nights, as moon's rays shine sweetly,
While air and nature fight, fierce and taciturn;

While she's prudent and wise, but's an enemy,
Never show'ng victory, only steel and distant toils,
Fickle in the winter's time, chilly, yet full of serenity,
That air, contrived, unseen, holding my destiny and joy?

Nightly air, brooding, as it floats in moons fading glare, without care.