In the breeze of the night, the secrets lease
their silver cotton clouds bringing in ease
imagination is outspoken, though may not be spoken
No fetters over weather, worry may be a mere token
There’s no moment of blur, no passion to stir
no invalid countenance to the spiritual whisper
Even in the autumn cold, it is as warm as fur
There’s elation like a smile that lasts for a long while
There’s no trivial of panic renting the air
The joy of love rediscovered from the past’s lair
Feeling the need to absorb with a student’s care
Those familiar gestures materialising like memory’s ware
And in this paradise, the sky rises and falls
The exploring of treasure in the eternal mall
I cast my net only to be pleased with the haul
Destiny speaks from the calendar on the wall
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