Thirty-four sings softly in the moonlight,
Hoping to disturb a passing soul.
In beauty only does one see God's
face,
Reckoning the power by the grace,
Touching so the sunlight in the coal.
Years of song are swallowed by the
night. Fear not, for
the miracle of sight
Opens up a window on the whole,
Unveiling a glimpse of time and place
Resplendent as the song one sings
alone. Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or
non-commercial use.
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