Hush now, little lake,
Hold your silver still
The moon is only dreaming
At the bottom of the hill

Hush now, little heart,
Do not wake too soon
One child saw the water
And cried for the moon

There was a child in a valley town,
Too small to know the sky
Who saw the moon in the lake one night
And heard the white light cry

The grown ones laughed beside the reeds,
“It is only light,” they said
But the child saw a drowning face
With silver on its head

“Someone must pull it from the deep,
Someone must make it breathe
The moon is cold, the lake is dark,
Do not let it leave”

No boat was near, no rope was long,
No hand could reach that far
So the child ran to Lachryma
Beneath the northern star

O child who cried for the moon,
Your tears were foolish and true
The gods looked down and did not laugh
At the mercy inside you

O child who cried for the moon,
Under the branches blue
One pale flower opened wide
For a kindness no one knew

The child pressed both hands to the bark,
And sobbed against the tree
“Please, if you drink the tears of men,
Drink these and set it free”

“I have no gold, I have no name,
No candle and no prayer
But if the moon is frightened,
Tell it someone cares”

The Lachryma had heard of war,
Of brides and broken bread
Of saints who would not bend the knee,
Of mothers calling dead

But never had its ancient root
Been given tears so small
For something high and far away
That had not fallen at all

Moon-Mercy,
Moon-Mercy,
Blue as breath,
Soft as sleep

Moon-Mercy,
Moon-Mercy,
What the wise lose,
The foolish keep

By morning, on the blackened branch,
A blue-white flower shone
Its petals held the color
Of moonlight on a stone

It gave no fruit, it rang no bell,
It showed no sin or grave
It only glowed when night returned
For every heart that gave

The villagers came one by one,
Ashamed of all their smiles
For none of them had pitied light
Or walked those midnight miles

The child said, “Look, it did not drown,”
And pointed to the sky
But still the flower opened more
Whenever tears were kind

They called the flower Moon-Mercy
Not because the moon needed saving
Not because the child was right

But because the heavens, being old,
had forgotten how to be rescued

And for one night,
a little hand reached toward them
without asking whether it made sense

Since then, when someone loves too much
A thing they cannot mend,
A bird, a star, a ghost,
A wound, a dream, a friend

They bring a tear to Lachryma,
Not wise, not clean, not grand
And hope a Moon-Mercy will bloom
Where no one understands

The elders warn the children still:
“Do not mock what kindness sees
For even foolish mercy
May be heard among the trees”

O child who cried for the moon,
Your tears were foolish and true
The gods looked down and did not laugh
At the mercy inside you

O child who cried for the moon,
Keep crying as children do
For all the lost and shining things
The world grows blind unto

O child who cried for the moon,
The lake has answered you
No love is wasted in the dark
If it makes one flower blue

Hush now, little lake,
Hold your silver still
The moon is only dreaming
At the bottom of the hill

Hush now, little heart,
Do not wake too soon
Some mercy blooms in error
Some tears are loved by the moon