Beneath the full moon’s silver lamp alight,
The world, in hushed reverence, bows its head,
A tapestry of stars, against the velvet night,
Where wisdom speaks, what hearts have left unsaid.
The whisper of the pines, a solemn hymn,
Flows gently through the fields of ashen gold;
And streams, like mirrors, gleam at twilight’s rim,
Reflecting truths too sacred to be held.
Compassion...
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