With the moon rise the water gives her ground.
Stirred from the depths she wept a wondrous sound.
Summond by the twilight/moonlight to beckon but not to prove
Hunting for something to bring her back tonight.
Shaking off the shackles her spirit knows no bounds.
Rising from a mystic fog like scripture come to life.
Through jagged teeth she shrieks of something always lost.
And with a voice soft enough to soothe the sea she says the worst is what you can't see.
She's as real as shadows when the moon comes up.