What winged men wait above the hills and valley?
The mine descends within the earth, and shadows
have gathered with the lowered sun. The darkness
of night is coming, notwithstanding starlight
and windows. Come into the parlour, silence,
for night is full of echoes, is of echoes.

We dare not speak for fear of waking echoes
of thunder in the hills. Deep in the valley,
the horses' hooves once thundered, breaking silence
like bread. We hungered once for voices; shadows
moved in our hearts and parlours. Tell me, starlight,
did you awaken once within such a darkness?

But we are adults now, and fear no darkness
within or without. We do not heed the echoes
of life at night, nor do we stir in starlight
or moonlight. Instead, living in this valley,
we take our ways through time. So tell me, shadows,
will you allow our noise to break the silence?

We breed of adult insects shrill till silence
dissolves. We speak and natter noise in darkness
till signals seem dissolved and broken. Shadows
in our hearts gather, as we murmur echoes
of name. Walhalla.... Will you tell me, valley,
what once you dreamt without the houses' starlight?

I never saw that town beneath its starlight,
I seldom felt that town in furling silence,
but I remember you, O dreaming valley,
and I remember time and summers, darkness
of solid shadows within, so tell me, echoes,
what hills reflect you, haunted by these shadows.

We breed of adult insects shrill till shadows,
and dream of nights when only moon and starlight
had entered in, within the valley's echoes
of hills. And I now know there is a silence,
a secret hid among the notes, so, darkness,
be still, have wit, be quiet in the valley.

So listen, shadows, to the sacred silence
that seems to sing of starlight, soft-lit darkness
and silver echoes of the night-lit valley.

-- Phillip A. Ellis ​