Beneath the stars, my soul begins to weep,
For beauty’s light doth pierce this fragile clay;
In silence deep, my heart its vigil keep,
Awaiting dawn to kiss the dark away.

O night, thou keeper of my secret prayer,
Unveil the truth that hides in mortal shade;
I seek the realm where love is pure and rare,
Where time itself by faith is gently swayed.

What art this longing but the breath divine,
A whisper born from heaven’s boundless art?
Though frail this flesh, eternal is the sign—
That love hath carved upon the mortal heart.