Shadow of the Moon

My fingers remain unmoved,
the pen runs dry,
the pencil crumbles away;
my silent words empty.

The sweet composition
of conception settles gently
underneath a white light
and clear shadows.

Within the depths
lies a buried purity
between each heart and soul;
from here poetic reflections fall.

Such words speak of age,
questioning growth in wisdom, fear.
Enigmas hidden behind guilty
shadows of the subconscious, revealed.

Forgotten secrets, lost in nightfall,
uncovered each evening by pure
light as my words descend
from the shadow of the moon.

Audrey Lynn