she gives nothing to the night
just waits quiet for its passing
here by the light of her candle
she waits as nights heavy feet slowly tread their intended path
as its myriad of small creatures
with their fanfares of babylon thunder and roll
their thousands voices wailing bitter and ceaseless
their thousands sharp claws rending the dreams from the dreamers

here in the prayers of her soulful reflections
she hears nights dark hand tapping at her door
hoping in vain to unleash her upon the free winds
hoping to strip away her adornments like a tissue of lies
so that she would stand as innocence in moonlight
with her perfections and beauties to be loved by the sea
until she was empty

here in the cradle of her hour
she awaits the fairer face of dawn
whom with lighted step and naught but the
chimes of birdsong shall usher away the
last of nights rabble sweeping them gently aside
with dawns ever sweet natures
to find and comfort all thouse
waiting for the redemptions that the light of day
sheds upon all thouse who fear they have been slandered by nights hand
she timidly opens her haven
as dawn moves past
and with childlike smiles she steps to the path of her ventures
till night come speeding down the dusty road once again seeking the hand of fairest maidens once again when day flees
to her wearied bed in the west