Night Chant of the Ancient Shore

Silver glides—through night’s solemn stillness.
Hush of winds—whispers low, in the still sky.
Fading, drifting, where moon-tide is turning,
Moonlight shimmers—as dark waves go by.

Silver gleams—while the sea wind is singing.
Branches moan—from the old ghostly pine.
Calling the souls—to their hush-bound resting.
Moonlight drifts—on a black ocean line.

Distant stars—on the wave-breath are shining.
Night winds roam—telling secrets to me.
Calling the souls—to soft slumber’s silence.
Moonlight shimmers—on tides wandering free.

Silver gleams—where the still wave is sighing.
Branches hum—from the jack pine so low.
Lulling my soul—to sleep in its silence.
Moonlight drifts—where the sea spirits go.

Silver it veils—each hush-breathing ripple.
Wind breathes slow—like a dream lost in me.
Calling my soul—to the hush of the hollow.
Moonlight sings—on the tide’s melody.

Waves are at rest—silver shadows now sleeping.
Night winds speak—like a ghost in memory.
Calling my soul—to their arms of stillness.
Moonlight shimmers—on deep, wisp of sea.

Waves lie soft—in the hush of their slumber.
Branches still—while the dream flows free.
Beckoning all—to the drift into silence.
Moonlight lingers—on sighing sea breeze.

Silver remains—though the night winds have faded.
Dreams now dim—like a mist lost at sea.
Souls are called—to a hush-shaded haven.
Moonlight hums—as the waves cradle thee.