moonbeams spent

There is a cave on a deserted shore
Where golden sand twinkles
Under the veiled stare of silver moonlight
And in this cave, the water can be heard
As it caresses the wounded rocks;
The healing touch of innocence
That would cure and be blemished

And the silver moonbeams too crept in
Tiring of the golden grain
Ready to scour or gently pry
To comfort the wounded rocks

And I followed the moonlight
To the promised cave
Where gentle waters and gentler fingers
Would serenade and
Apply a soothing balm to the sorrowing

But my searching feet found no gentle waters
And no sorrowing and wounded ones
Drew mortal water from my calloused feet
Yet the gentle caress of some ethereal tenderness
Lingered in my mind
Just beyond my hearing
A transient love of healing…
Had my shy celestial guide
Been misleading?