Nocturnal Fire

The empty canvas, 

     gray and waiting,

        then, the stilling Wind,

           the waning Gibbous, 

             a stand of tall trees, 

the unseen, now seen.

Empty now filled

      by strokes of soft light

         throwing dark shadows,

           revealing in the night

             the glory and wonder,

the Master's Hand.

No longer empty,

      a nocturnal fire,

        ablaze with heaven,

          gray canvas glowing

            but only for souls

with insomnia.