In Quiet Dreams, We Rest

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The night descends in quiet, deep and mild,

And soothes my thoughts as one would calm a child.

The clamor of the day grows faint and still,

As peace, unbidden, bends me to its will.


The restless wind lays down its wandering song,

The hurried hours no longer press along.

All things grow hushed beneath the moon’s soft gleam,

And I am drawn into a kindly dream.


The moon, in silver majesty displayed,

Keeps watch where all my mortal cares are laid;

While distant stars, like scattered gems on high,

Shed fragile hope across the darkened sky.


The forest stands in reverent repose,

Its leafy tales no longer seek to close.

Each measured breath, both slow and deep and sure,

Draws troubled thoughts away, serene and pure.


My heart assumes a calmer, steadier grace,

As ancient griefs grow weary of their place.

What once lay heavy loosens, then departs,

Unclaimed at last by unremembering hearts.


Between the realms of waking and of sleep,

Where tender dreams their silent vigils keep,

New visions bloom, like flowers born unseen,

In inward fields untouched by noise or sheen.


They speak of truths my spirit still holds dear-

Of patient love, of hope untouched by fear;

Of light that waits beyond my present sight,

Abiding still beneath the stars of night.


Thus folds the dark my weary soul in rest,

Till fear and striving fade from out my breast.

And when the dawn its gentle call renews,

I wake restored, adorned in morning’s hues-

Refreshed, renewed, and quietly made new.

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