Through conifers dense, where shadows weave,
A lone path calls, though mists deceive.
The air is still; the stars seem shy,
Yet moonlight spills from a silvered sky.

Through towering trees, its rays cascade,
A quiet marvel the night has made.
The handsome wanderer halts in awe,
Each beam a promise without a flaw.

One light strikes soft on his pallor fair,
A spotlight spun in the midnight air.
He lifts his hand and whispers low,
“Oh, moon, your faith-filled beauty glows.

Hail the divine who shaped your grace,
A beacon bright in this shadowed space.
When I stand here, your light does shine,
A void made pure, your glow divine.”

Oft you’ve walked with me...