(Joseph MacRae, 1990's)
To Ride the Falling Star
In the still of the night
shadows come to light.
The cool damp fog a blanket
upon the sleeping Mother.
It comes creeping,
this wind that blows at night.
Now soundless, this starless sight.
The spirits speak in silence,
touched only by dreams.
And earth awakens
to starbright.
Moon casts her crimson glow.
It is time, my child,
To ride the falling star.
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