Embrace of Freedom

The night is quietly rustling, The soft shadows of untold dark, The silver sides of the willow leaves, Struck with moonlight deathly stark. Gentle waves bearing feathers, Downy, snow-white, soft, Rippling softly as one's last breath, Gleaming from the stars aloft. Sand so fine, and grave-yard bare, Under nature's own light, Always soft though bittersweet, Never glaring and bright. Quietly rustle, call to me, O soft leaves of willow, Dance with sorrow in the breeze, And form my deathbed's pillow. Never again shall I see, The day of light in glee, Never again shall I know, The life I've lived, as I'm free.