I'm a nighthawk soaring beneath the moonlight,
Mingling with the lightening bugs,
While listening to the crickets' song,
All the while wondering,
Where it is I truly belong.
The moon has become my best friend,
Over these many moons I've been flying
Under the guidance of her light,
Which has always served to mark,
The beginning of my flight.
But even the moon has her phases,
Where she decides to go dark,
Only to come alive anew,
Basking us in the splendor of her light,
That she herself, renewed.
But as I've been basking in her light,
Thoughts have been swirling around me,
And I can't quite seem to catch one,
Because they are much too fast,
So it's a battle I haven't yet won.
It's a battle that will only serve to mark,
The beginning of a lonesome war,
That I don't want to fight,
But then the moon still there,
Shines upon me her moonlight.
I take advice from my friend the moon,
Because if she indeed can find the will,
To fight her darkness and start anew,
Then I can conquer these thoughts,
And into the night, I flew.
