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Click hereI was lying alone in a pile of leaves
when moonlight whisked me away through the trees.
Away like the wind and up to the clouds,
wrapped in a misty white nebulous shroud.
Then I emerged to a much younger time,
to smell of the night and barn owl’s rhyme.
I was back in the days when nature still spoke,
and walked through the hills in glory uncloaked.
My thoughts ran like wolves on hunt through the night
seeking out mysteries yet hidden from sight.
The ancient, the old, the things once discovered,
all now forgotten or shoved in time’s cupboard
Then moon’s brightness paled and moved into dawn
as grey turned to blush, another night gone.
The visions all faded of Druid and oak,
of moss and of stone, of firelight, smoke.
Yet something was wrong, a point had been missed,
something I need to know to exist.
Perhaps about memories, or maybe just dreams,
clues to life’s tapestry, hints to the theme.
Revelation was sudden. The night is alive.
It fathers the morning each day to survive.