Erurávennë
Lover of all that matters ~ From PA, USA
- Joined
- Nov 30, 2025
- Messages
- 255
For short writings I want to share here with members on the forum. I have read some of other members beautiful work and I think I would like to contribute. Who knows what I will come up with in the future? The ideas are endlessly brewing.
A little creation from today:
A little creation from today:
The Moon
Silver, sad or simply healing, sighing, flowing, seems weary of its life.
Best told by its ways, wanderings, whispers?
Like reeds on a lapping shore more beautiful by its light.
Like its guise - mysterious, foamy, preserving man’s adventures.
Like a long, drawl howl of a wolf speaking to it.
Like a lonely soul in its still, quiet presence.
Like cold blue steel flashing in its cool, silver streams.
Like its stealing through some cavern’s crack into a lonely pool.
Like its revealing forgotten holes for treasure, diamond flashing, guarded by beasts.
Like a perilous trek up snowy mountains in a blizzard.
Like its unfailing company to the many, piercing, cheerful stars.
Like a forgotten prisoner weary of life, in deep dungeons, long moldy, choking, bare.
Like a half forgotten tale, whispered among ancient beings, veiled by time.
Like a clear, true, silver laugh echoing in great halls.
Revealing, and concealing, comforting, quavering, go its streaming shafts.
Silver, sad or simply healing, sighing, flowing, seems weary of its life.
Best told by its ways, wanderings, whispers?
Like reeds on a lapping shore more beautiful by its light.
Like its guise - mysterious, foamy, preserving man’s adventures.
Like a long, drawl howl of a wolf speaking to it.
Like a lonely soul in its still, quiet presence.
Like cold blue steel flashing in its cool, silver streams.
Like its stealing through some cavern’s crack into a lonely pool.
Like its revealing forgotten holes for treasure, diamond flashing, guarded by beasts.
Like a perilous trek up snowy mountains in a blizzard.
Like its unfailing company to the many, piercing, cheerful stars.
Like a forgotten prisoner weary of life, in deep dungeons, long moldy, choking, bare.
Like a half forgotten tale, whispered among ancient beings, veiled by time.
Like a clear, true, silver laugh echoing in great halls.
Revealing, and concealing, comforting, quavering, go its streaming shafts.
