Who will walk with me into the night,
Where tree toads call and crickets wait.
Here no moon shows road or path.
So move on mossy floor and search by sense.
Smell of jasmine and dark blooming blossoms,
Beckon one ahead into the blackness;
There dewy pearled fronds frame ivy laden trees
And ebony evening songs, lead to a sacred place,
Eternally holy, where time and season
Melt to make memory more hallowed.

Fallen trees, rotting leaves, and rain stream
Lined with fern forest and mushroom domes;
Here men chipped to shape and sharpen stones,
Women ground grain and sang tradition songs,
Soldiers in Grey or Blue rested and prayed.
All and more found haven here, and now
Sweet sanctuary awaits my nocturnal coming.
Carolina glen, natures hushed, protected nest,
I seek, to join past energy eternal, and ask,
“Who will walk with me into the night?”

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