Silence echoes across the water,
the lone wind cries,
desolate and forlorn,
lost in the empty gray
and the rippled blue,
caught in awesome wonder,
engulfed by hollow beauty,
something undefinable,
wider than the sky,
and deeper than the sea.

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A Parable of Moth
(by Sandra Pancoast)

Why further flutter and higher fly,
why longer journey and further go,
for dreams of star and sky and moon
when light of fire and candle glow
beckon warmly from nearby?
Not every moth that dances,
that flutters swirling by,
darting near the flickering flame,
stirring through the smoky sky,
ever ignites or catches fire.
Not every moth will singe and die,
not every time will death prevail,
but many wings will cease to beat,
and many moths will cease to sail
as dusters through the night.

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Close the Silvered Scroll The Runes of Silver

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