Alone I sit in quiet room,
the darkness waning thin;
the quiet looms,
as death assumes,
decaying all within.

Divining touch, despondant gloom
together shift as one;
away it flies,
that life of lies,
encompassed by the sun.

The sun retreats to later rise,
replaced by Moon of grey:
with loving sighs
constructing lives,
the Moon takes pain away.

She gives forgiveness to those who try,
another chance for life:
the girl who weeps
and never sleeps,
the Moon hath soothed her cries.

Relieving sadness, strife and hurt,
her kindly face smiles down
to kiss the cheek
of Strong or Meek,
to place the rosen crown.

Alone I sat in quiet room,
with darkness waning thin;
but Moon was there
with love to share,
and I began again.