…of rivers
Under a silent moon
I hear the whispers of rivers
after all that once was
is lost
even the stars have fallen
their echoes fill the night
a melody of truth
and illusion
and now even time
is an illusion
carefully crafted
by the moon
the divine mistress
of the night
drifting
in her pearlescent rivers
looking down
upon the fallen
the poor souls forever lost
it is the pain
that is never lost
in the deluge of illusion
all the walls have fallen
all pathways lit by the moon
for she rules
a confluence of rivers
wrapped
in the blanket of night
my heart
clings to the night
where in the shadows
my light is lost
I ache to be one
with the rivers
forever merged
with sweet illusion
flowing
at the whim of the moon
carrying the souls
of the fallen
both the leaves
and the petals
now gently fallen
into the melancholy night
trembling
at the velvet touch
of the moon
in the music of the wind
they are lost
their lingering fragrance
an illusion
dissolving
into the waiting rivers
those shimmering
moonlit rivers
where the whispers
comfort the fallen
in the shifting shades
of illusion
now a wretched creature
of the night
where once found
I am now lost
now only existing
under the moon
ever drifting aimless
in her rivers
embracing the freedom
of the fallen
falling
for the final
great illusion
© Ann Bagnall
