Preach to me not of the light,
Be silent of all things bright,
For there is naught a single site
More clear than a dark night.

The sun leaves the evening sky,
And the moon begins to fly.
The owls peek: soft and sly,
To stop the eve from passing by.

Shadows dance with rowdy leaves
that flow through the pillar trees.
Sparkles shimmer across the sea,
And move with late night glee.

The only light I will ever need
Comes from the moon’s soft beams.
This gentle illumination feeds,
A soul that does not believe.