Beneath the cloak of twilight's bloom, Rests a silent guardian, a ghostly loom; In heaven's garden, it weaves with grace, Threads of silver in night's dark lace. What sphere dares mirror the sun's bright face, Yet holds in shadows a darker trace? It sways the seas with a hidden hand, And waltzes with stars, o'er the sleeping land. This celestial dancer in the sky, Wears many masks as the nights slip by; Tell me, seeker with thoughts so deep, What is the name of this keeper of sleep?