The moon is black
As in eclipse,
January black,
Dead or waiting to be born.
The music makers, too,
Onyx black,
Shadows without light
Asleep and waiting for the dawn.
A scroll of music and guitar
Lay silent at their side,
Stone monuments
Waiting for the living sun.
It is the music of the night
As black as sleep
Without a dream
and waiting to be played again.
As in eclipse,
January black,
Dead or waiting to be born.
The music makers, too,
Onyx black,
Shadows without light
Asleep and waiting for the dawn.
A scroll of music and guitar
Lay silent at their side,
Stone monuments
Waiting for the living sun.
It is the music of the night
As black as sleep
Without a dream
and waiting to be played again.