Awoken in the night,
from dispirit dreams.
Reveals a memory,
wrung from deep within.
Of distant voices,
chattering words of every kind.
Washed ashore as moon and earth align.
Until the spinning of a silver thread.
Displays the poet’s envy of a song.
Unwilling celebrant at altar high,
Calls upon creator’s praise.
In un-polished lines and words,
plucked from mind and soul,
and chiselled with uncertainty.
Then made to stand and pirouette
then made to fade.