The hours after the Sun faded has been long:
The strings are drawn, and the celestial frame holds the moons new crescent
in centrality among the stars, on a cold night sky.
The dense lush just beneath, at the foot of this hill, are rustling,
and their branches swaying, as the night breeze blows past them.
Swaying, as if dancing to the sound of Surugede - the drum beats of the forest spirits.
And as I sit here, slowly blinking, trying to resist the tempt of sleep afore me,
I know it is going to be another long night without you.
But let my heart ride the wind to find you,
And cloak you with my unyielding love.
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