Work Text:
One evening on the quiet sea,
My Lord sang soft a song to me.
The ship was hushed, the sky was wide,
And crimson moonlight kissed the rolling tide.
He brushed His hand through my windswept hair,
And whispered words like ocean air:
"Beloved," came His voice so low,
"There was a time, long years ago:
Back in my day, the moon would gleam,
Not pale, but silver, like a dream.
Platinum-bright, a sacred light,
That bathed the world in gentler night.
My brows drew close, my thoughts askew—
A silver moon? That can't be true.
Yet still I looked into His eyes,
And found no hint of earthly lies.
If He believed, then so would I,
Beneath that endless cobalt sky.
He smiled and said, with wistful grace,
"I hope to show you that old place."
So now I dream, each time I sleep,
Of a silver moon above the deep.