We stood at the crossroads
Caught In the middle of twilight
Gazing across eternal Elysian Fields.
The golden spell of the dying west
Countered by the silver moon
Grown plump and round
The grasses had drunk their fill of gold
Bowing to be released into change
Back towards the earth.
While the moon drew water
Into every silver globe and sphere
Of flower and bud and seed.
Our breath broke the balance
The sun fell, the moon rose
And the cycle rolled on into eternity.