MoonTorrent

The drought of light makes it tight  It is hidden at times of drought  When we are parched from lack of light the veil will fall ; it will fail to prevail It will entail the paling of the dark 

I sit in silent thought Taking in what we have wrought  Every figure eight of the baton Conducting the orchestra of our lives Needs a pause a rest a silence  To gather chi to nourish me