The moon ascends in silver grace,

A guardian in the starry space.

Its light spills softly on the ground,

A peaceful hush, without a sound.

The stars, like diamonds, fill the sky,

A thousand voices, silent, high.

They tell their stories, faint but bright,

In the tender embrace of night.

The breeze stirs gently through the trees,

Carrying with it ancient pleas.

It brushes past, a whispered song,

Of things that in the dark belong.

Beneath the cloak of twilight’s veil,

The world exhales a secret tale.

The shadows stretch, both far and near,

Where mystery and stillness peer.

The owl calls out from distant wood,

Its hoot a warning, understood.

The night is vast, its voice a plea,

To those who listen, wild and free.

But not all things that roam the night,

Are soft and gentle, pure and bright.

There’s darkness, lurking in the deep,

Where dreams are lost and shadows creep.

The wind howls low, the branches sway,

And somewhere far, a dog will bay.

The night is thick, with secrets old,

A time for tales both kind and bold.

Yet in its depths, a quiet peace,

A pause where restless hearts may cease.

For in the night, we learn to see,

The beauty of what used to be.

So let the night embrace the soul,

Its mysteries, both dark and whole.

For in its quiet, we may find,

The whispers echo in our mind.