Candle Light Writing

Night falls, and I begin the soft treck, oh glorious pathways, buried beneath the cumbersome chaos of living the day.

With the evening stars out, here the flowers are sleeping, oh glorious rest, yet I am aware, with the wine of tart words.

The wax moon I did light, that silver glow of whick, that bows to the breeze, oh glorious flame, we meet yet again.

I open the window for the aroma that's nightly, and the wind blows a flicker, oh glorious chill, and sit love in hand.

I feather the wine, down on paper, while glowing flame warms, oh glorious fire, burn on your whick and on minds.

Then I close up my book, kiss the moon dark, relaxed and refreshed I follow the rest, oh glorious dreaming.