Cynosure of the Night

Distance means not a thing Because you wander so And each night you venture out A small way more you go. If time stood still and the world became hushed And greater blackness cloaked the night, Would you pause also in tense few moments And wait for some silver starlight? Perhaps the moon would pale and rise On a phantom sea of clouds so high And spotlight your way down the black silken roads Like the cynosure of the night.