Moon-Bathed

Woven within a choir unseen, unheard by mortal ears.

Candles flicker on the distant hill.

Tiny beacons against the velvet dark,

lighting a path for wandering souls,

Illuminating what is to come.

Whispers in the wind.

A promise, a sonnet, necessary.

Amidst the world's slow, simmering pyre.

The full moon, a lilac eye.

Watching, knowing.

As magic, a tangible current of events,

pulses with every breath.

A secret language spoken,

Each step forward, a brushstroke on destiny,

a fearless dance on the edge.

As we are left to our devices.

This sweet Valentine.