Upon the sable cloak of night he rides,
Mōna, crowned in argent, calm, and still.
His lantern spills across the shadowed sides,
Revealing hearts that harbor secret ill.

No treachery may hide from silver flame,
No whisper clothed in darkness keeps its guise.
His patient gaze unmasks the veiled and shame,
And sharpens truth within the watchful skies.

Yet softer still, his blessing folds the earth,
A quiet hand that soothes the weary breast.
In silver hush he sings of second birth,
Of dreams, of refuge, and of gentle rest.

And in the sea his ancient power sways,
The breathing tides obey his silent call.
The oceans rise and fall in measured ways,
A hymn of balance holding one and all.

Oh Mōna, guardian of the night’s domain,
Whose silver light unmasks the dark untrue.
You comfort hearts and bind the heaving main,
Eternal watchman of both deep and blue.