The moon reflects the unseen sun

around the time of the sunrise

or what would be the sunrise

if it could be seen. But relax,

resist the urge to speak

when you have nothing to say

about the onset of winter

and the darkening of the day

as sleep becomes a harbor

in the cold wind of dark thoughts

and a soft bed of dream

invites you to hibernate

so that, forgetting all your cares,

you enter a lucid landscape

of eternal memories,

a reversal of miseries

as you feel your way through

the things you had been scorning

and heal through the dismal morning

until the wonder of the world

again takes you unawares

and you are captive of the joy

that your own silence brings

when silence secretly sings.

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