Winking past benighted minions
still and soft, she glides away.
Severed light pushed off her pinions,
for she had nothing left to say.
Dark her bosom, darker forming,
full of starry, whiteling lights;
perched atop the scalp of morning,
waits for courage to ignite.
Now to find the peace so wanting,
till we are awake again,
sleep bejewels our hearts unflaunting,
send us now thy rest, our friend.