Solstice Call - Cecilia Tonna
Early morning darkness beckons.
Wrapped in robe and last-quarter moonlight,
I stand, pulled by a cold simplicity toward
the threshold of myself -
edge of starlight,
edge of stable -
where resounds the ancient Gloria.
Wrapped in robe and last-quarter moonlight,
I stand, pulled by a cold simplicity toward
the threshold of myself -
edge of starlight,
edge of stable -
where resounds the ancient Gloria.