In the stillness of the night,
I lay the water in pale light.
A bowl beneath the moon’s cool eye,
To drink the glow of velvet sky.

It hums with whispers, soft and low,
As lunar beams begin to flow,
Charging each drop with silver fire,
Infused with ancient, calm desire.

The stars above, like watchful seers,
Reflect in quiet, crystal tears,
While every ripple gathers grace,
In this enchanted, sacred space.

By dawn, the magic will be spun,
Each drop a spell, the night begun.
The