It Must Be The Breeze

Far off in the distance
almost too soft to hear,
water flows so freely
through mountain valleys, so clear.
Crystal in the moonlight,
peaceful as a breeze,
gentle as a flower,
mysterious as the trees.
Illuminous, the moonlight,
shining upon this Earth
lighting up the darkest nights,
to new life it gives birth.
Endless is the beauty,
from within, and without
swept away in twilight,
no longer filled with doubt.