The stars are sharp, like diamonds on a shroud,
Behind the veil of every drifting cloud.
The moon has hidden her reflected face,
And left the world to darkness and to space.
When light is gone, the hidden things appear,
The truths we're usually too blind to hear.
The rustle in the grass, the breathing wall,
The ancient voices that the shadows call.
In the Amavasya's deep and ink-black ink,
We finally find the courage just to think.
No silver beams to color what is real,
Just the raw edges that the spirits feel.
The forest speaks in riddles and in sighs,
Unseen by mortal and by waking eyes.
It is the night of magic and of masks,
Where every spirit finishes its tasks.
The dark is not a void, it is a sea,
Of everything that we are meant to be.
So wait in silence till the dawn breaks through,
The moonless night has stories meant for you.