The Moon and Sixpence

Night falls on the endless horizon, Where dreams rise and then wane, Like the waxing moon, its face turns,
Cadence of silence singing Through the realms of shadows. The rivers beneath pulse tenderly, Calling forward the deep earth’s embrace, And one can feel the heart throb— All souls bated, all time lost, Wishing the stars would reveal it, But instead they whisper softly. The night, wild and foreign, Teaches me to lie still, To learn all the realms, all the worlds In their quietude, and Evoke the jumps of joy, as clear as glass.

• Gary Snyder