Silent Rhythm
I lay upon the cold dewy grass,
Beneath, blackest blanket.
I am a sailor of the land,
Yet, a citizen to none.
The night is perfect.
A silent rhythm, I hear.
In the stillness of the wind
In the weaving of the stars
The rhythm,
Deaf, to all senses
Yet, at home,
At home within my heart,
Night,
Your constellations, tell your story,
My heart beats, to the rhythm,
My story, to be told.
The Rhythm Divine.
No longer, mere desire,
No longer, mere passion,
But, the very breath, of my being.
Copyright © Nebula Gibran | Year Posted 2013
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