Moon Without Dreams

The hidden sigh, unsure and spent,
within the folds of a nameless sky,
a light fades out, leaving a silent breeze,
thoughts of stars the darkness cannot claim.
Without dreams, the moon knows and keeps its peace,
like a heart determined never to speak,
in lack of desire it loses form and grace,
and silence stays, refusing to embrace.
In its vacant eye, it mirrors naught,
a sea of mist with no shore and no return,
dark companion to lonely, chilling nights,
keeper of a secret none have ever known.
Yet, in that quietude, perhaps life resides,
a whisper waiting just to bloom and glide,
a moon devoid of dreams can still yet shake,
and in that murmur, the world starts to wake.