Crimson Moon Over Solitude

Beneath a sky of velvet dreams,

Where silence hums and starlight gleams,

A blood-red moon begins to rise—

A lantern hung in midnight skies.

It casts its blush on ocean's skin,

Where whispers of the tides begin,

And paints the waves in shades of flame,

A gentle fire no wind can tame.

One lone palm stands, so tall, so still,

Upon a rock, with steadfast will.

It leans toward that lunar light,

A sentinel of endless night.

Behind, the island sleeps in shade,

Its trees in soft enchantment laid.

The world feels hushed, as if in prayer,

Held captive by the moon’s red glare.

O moon of rose, O orb of fire,

You set the soul and sea on fire.

A moment caught, both strange and grand,

Where time forgets to move its hand.

No voice, no sound, no fear, no tune—

Just awe beneath a crimson moon.