Whispers

The silent moon grows strong, my friend,
And yet I hear her song, my friend.

Stars fall in glory through the dark,
Freed from the pressing throng, my friend.

The lightly scented night wind blows;
It heals the soul of wrong, my friend.

A gentle arc holds all our dreams
Bound in a stardust thong, my friend.

Soft feathered and unseen, one tolls
The heart of nature’s gong, my friend.

Can lone Zahhar, atop the hill,
Ever be there too long, my friend?