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Without Light

Without Light

Without Light, what would drive away the darkness?
Without Light, would there still be life?
Without Light, would there still be love?
Without Light, would trees still grow?
Without Light, would flowers still bloom?
Without Light, would there still be a sunrise?
Without Light, would there still be a sunset?
Without Light, would we still see the stars?
Without Light, would we still see the moon?
Without Light, would we still have hope?

By Christopher Tye

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The Light o' the Moon

[How different people and different animals look upon the moon: showing that each creature finds in it his own mood and disposition]


The Old Horse in the City

The moon's a peck of corn. It lies
Heaped up for me to eat.
I wish that I might climb the path
And taste that supper sweet.

Men feed me straw and scanty grain
And beat me till I'm sore.
Some day I'll break the halter-rope
And smash the stable-door,

Run down the street and mount the hill
Just as the corn appears.
I've seen it rise at certain times
For years and years and years.


What the Hyena Said

The moon is but a golden skull,
She mounts the heavens now,
And Moon-Worms, mighty Moon-Worms
Are wreathed around her brow.

The Moon-Worms are a doughty race:
They eat her gray and golden face.
Her eye-sockets dead, and molding head:
These caverns are their dwelling-place.

The Moon-Worms, serpents of the skies,
From the great hollows of her eyes
Behold all souls, and they are wise:
With tiny, keen and icy eyes,
Behold how each man sins and dies.

When Earth in gold-corruption lies
Long dead, the moon-worm butterflies
On cyclone wings will reach this place —
Yea, rear their brood on earth's dead face.


What the Snow Man Said

The Moon's a snowball. See the drifts
Of white that cross the sphere.
The Moon's a snowball, melted down
A dozen times a year.

Yet rolled again in hot July
When all my days are done
And cool to greet the weary eye
After the scorching sun.

The moon's a piece of winter fair
Renewed the year around,
Behold it, deathless and unstained,
Above the grimy ground!

It rolls on high so brave and white
Where the clear air-rivers flow,
Proclaiming Christmas all the time
And the glory of the snow!


What the Scare-crow Said

The dim-winged spirits of the night
Do fear and serve me well.
They creep from out the hedges of
The garden where I dwell.

I wave my arms across the walk.
The troops obey the sign,
And bring me shimmering shadow-robes
And cups of cowslip-wine.

Then dig a treasure called the moon,
A very precious thing,
And keep it in the air for me
Because I am a King.


What Grandpa Mouse Said

The moon's a holy owl-queen.
She keeps them in a jar
Under her arm till evening,
Then sallies forth to war.

She pours the owls upon us.
They hoot with horrid noise
And eat the naughty mousie-girls
And wicked mousie-boys.

So climb the moonvine every night
And to the owl-queen pray:
Leave good green cheese by moonlit trees
For her to take away.

And never squeak, my children,
Nor gnaw the smoke-house door:
The owl-queen then will love us
And send her birds no more.


The Beggar Speaks

"What Mister Moon Said to Me."

Come, eat the bread of idleness,
Come, sit beside the spring:
Some of the flowers will keep awake,
Some of the birds will sing.

Come, eat the bread no man has sought
For half a hundred years:
Men hurry so they have no griefs,
Nor even idle tears:

They hurry so they have no loves:
They cannot curse nor laugh —
Their hearts die in their youth with neither
Grave nor epitaph.

My bread would make them careless,
And never quite on time —
Their eyelids would be heavy,
Their fancies full of rhyme:

Each soul a mystic rose-tree,
Or a curious incense tree:
Come, eat the bread of idleness,
Said Mister Moon to me.


What the Forester Said

The moon is but a candle-glow
That flickers thro' the gloom:
The starry space, a castle hall:
And Earth, the children's room,
Where all night long the old trees stand
To watch the streams asleep:
Grandmothers guarding trundle-beds:
Good shepherds guarding sheep.

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What Would It Take

(billy lawson/sam hogin/wally wilson)
I held the world in my arms
I threw away the moon for the stars
Couldnt see the forest for the trees
Couldnt see the love in front of me
What would it take to take me back?
Rebuild that bridge, retrace my tracks
I would give all I own, for one little stepping stone
What would it take to take me back?
I miss waking up with you there
Morning sun bouncing off your hair
And you all tangled up in silk and lace
A masterpiece no one can paint
What would it take to take me back?
Rebuild that bridge, retrace my tracks
I would give all I own, for one little stepping stone
What would it take to take me back?
Oh, what would it take to take me back?

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The Moon And The Sun

the moon and the sun looked at each other's eyes
oh.what a surprise! ! they have already met at sunset! !
oh, my, at night they got separed!
their heart was unprepared...
tHE PAIN WAS UNBEARBLE, for they are unseparable

the moon got carried away, the moon had nothing to say...
will they ever see each other?
for they love so one another

their hearts were full of despair
for again they will see each other they declair

the moon's heart was full of passion
the sun's heart was full of compassion

the sun, from the moon he cannot be away

look at the price the moon had to pay...

she preferes to die instead, her consience told her to go ahead

the sun was ever so sad, oh! what a poor young lad

look at how the sun loves the moon

after this cure he will join her soon

now the sun will slowly die

and now in peace may he lie


sincerley: kuji soliman

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The Moon Rabbit

In the night sky,
Sits the moon,
And on that moon lives,
The moon rabbit.
What he does up there,
All alone,
Is completely unknown.

But I think I’ve figured it out.

He spends his time,
Making cheese.
He makes cheese,
For the moon people.
And every year,
They have a cheese party,
To say thank-you,
To their cheese making friend.

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Yes, the moon!

The moon.
Yes!
Yes, the moon!
I like to wander
with the moon.

It's easy with the moon.
Not awkward, you'd
expect it might be awkward.
It's not.
Not with the moon.

The moon is always
gleaming,
and glowing.
Never upset.

The moon, doesn't get hurt,
or sore with me.
It is just there.
Listening.

The moon is a gooood listener.
It sits through all my
moaning, and groaning.
So I don't have to go
moan, and groan,
alone.

The moon is just what I need.
It's what I've got.
The moon,
oh, the moon.
I'd like to think
the moon is just a different part
of me.

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The Moon of Myths

the ruby red in
october
the crystally white in
feburary

as the winds blow across the night time skies
the moon becomes shurrded in the mist of
may

a round dimond pearl
shining above the citites ans towns
looking down at the few
who still belive that big silver thing
is the ruler of night
and still has a few more ancient mysteries to solve

honor the moon
for it's more than just a big white shiny rock

what few know is
the moon holds your life in
it's craters

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Cold Day In July

The moon is full and my arms are empty
All night long I've pleaded and cried
You always said the day that you would leave me
Would be a cold day in July

Your bags are packed not a word is spoken
I guess we said everything with good-bye
Time moves so slow and promises get broken
On this cold day in July

Sun's comin' up comin' up down on Main Street
Children shout as they're running out to play
Head in my hands her I am
Standing in my bare feet
Watching you drive away
Watchinf you drive away

You said that we were gonna last forever
You said our love would never die
It looks like spring and
It feels like sunny weather
But it's a cold day in July

On sun's comin' up comin' up
Down on Main Street
Children shout as they're running out to play
Whoa head in my hands
Here I am standing in my bare feet
Watching you drive away
Watching you drive away

The moon is full and my arms are empty
All night long how I've pleaded and cried
You always said the day that
you would leave me

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Time For Light Away From The Shadows And Dark Corners

it is time for light
shine, shine
and take away the little dark corners
drive away the shadows
on the fullness of your day

and then we will dance
and sing and make merry
under the fullness of your grace
and your loving warmth

come light, come
take away everything
that we are not
and we are not supposed to be

come light, come
light our paths so we will see
the truth
that as children of God
we are meant to be happy.

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What Would Be The Point To Make?

I am not afraid of conflict.
I've known too much of it most of my life.
And today to run away from it,
I have not considered...
Since,
Once I learn a lesson to avoid anything...
I don't welcome a revisit to prove to anyone,
I have had my previous experiences.
What would be the point to make?

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What Would We Do Without Dogs?

What would we do without dogs?
Well, I'll tell you what we would do.
We'd wonder why they were taken away,
And ponder until we turn blue.

Why would we do all of this?
I'd do this because I care.
I care about animals and nature,
So to take away dogs, well,
If I were you, I wouldn't dare.

What would we do without dogs?
They say they are man's best friend.
So I guess the people would be sad,
Because it would have came the dogs' end.

Let's hope this never happens,
Until the end of time.
For now, while they're here,
Let's help and try and try,
To keep them here.

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A Garden on the Moon

Let me say this standing while I still have breath to sing
There must be a light somewhere that brightens everything
I try like someone desperate to light a fire of the heart
I strike another match and watch you blow it all apart
I swear to the heavens that I love you more than life
I know there is no other that would make a finer wife
But our world is like a prison
One that we have built
Or like a garden in the desert
Where the flowers grow but wilt
What makes us miss the moments
In the photos and the cards
Is knowing this will end someday
and forever we will part
Until then let’s find solace
In a poem or a tune
waiting for the warmth of spring
in a garden on the moon.

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Ticket To The Moon

Remember the good old 1980s?
When things were so uncomplicated?
I wish I could go back there again
And everything could be the same.
Ive got a ticket to the moon
Ill be leaving here any day soon
Yeah, Ive got a ticket to the moon
But Id rather see the sunrise in your eyes.
Got a ticket to the moon
Ill be rising high above the earth so soon
And the tears I cry might turn into the rain
That gently falls upon your window
Youll never know.
Chorus:
Ticket to the moon (ticket to the moon)
Ticket to the moon (ticket to the moon)
Ticket to the moon (ticket to the moon).
Fly, fly through a troubled sky
Up to a new world shining bright, oh, oh.
Flying high above
Soaring madly through the mysteries that come
Wondering sadly if the ways that led me here
Could turn around and I would see you there
Standing there (and I would see you there, waiting...)
Ticket to the moon
Flight leaves here today from satellite two
As the minutes go by, what should I do?
I paid the fare, what more can I say?
Its just one way (only one way)...
Repeat chorus:
Repeat chorus:

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The Moon Went Away

The desire of coming over man who be doing everything no mean or kindly
One who be able to done determination for god thing for people every
The people respect to dangerous mans they would be respect to them equally
Knowing every hearts make love and faith they would be create world beautifully

Never rough sea or storm every where breeze with calm wind is blowing
Smile with pure heart for much better future for further together and hoping
Don't hurt with self love don't turn or escape from someone offering
They will be meet at hell or heaven judge is be over there and watching

The moon is will go far away and sun s helium atom rays beaming further for planet of earth
The widths of earth flare will more centuries we can't make obstacle for bid of god faith
Every night shivered with dreaming when will embrace truly of loving truth
The thought having sole is near for step by step every moment keep faith

The among more differences believe feel have close to you every along moment
With worthy society when will peak of pure love or faith without hurt
Among environmental attraction where do come from cruel man with rough heart
Keep one desire for one god gift for which of make better thing for listen over fort

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What Would The Children Think

She wakes up in the morning with the new sunrise
Looks at her husband sleeping still
Inside she cries
She makes the children breakfast
Gets them on their way
Watching them through the window
She prepares to face another day
Then her husband tells her
That he wont be home til late
Theres so much work hell have to stay behind
But she knows it isnt work thats on his mind
But still hell never leave her
Cause what would the children think
Where would the children go
What would the children do
If they knew the way it was
But theyll never learn because
What would the children think
Where would the children think
At the gate she kissed him
And watched him walk
Hoping this small charade
Will stop the neighbors talk
She turns to hide a tear
Inside her gilded cage
She cries for the love she could not hold
And lost to someone half her age
Then her pride and breakin heart
Tell her to run away
But she values what shes got a little more
Two kids, one 9 and nearly 4
And she would never leave them cause
What would the children think
Where would the children go
What would the children do
If they knew the way it was
But theyll never learn because
What would the children think
Where would the children think
What would the children think
Where would the children go
What would the children do.

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What Would Be The Point

What would be the point,
If a blade of grass
Was not meant to feel,
Its importance?
Would it be inspired to grow?
And to whom and what,
Does it attempt to impress?
Another blade of grass,
That stretches to grow fast
From its seed.

What would be the point,
If no flower bloomed.
To provide the bees,
With no nectar to gather.
To return to a hive.
Does it do this,
To keep itself alive?

What would be the point,
For the trees to exist?
If the leaves that grew from them,
Did not assist in the mixture of air.
That helped us breathe.
Do the trees do this,
To flaunt its deeds?

And what would be the point,
For us to seek love.
If all we did with it was to argue,
Again and again as if to win
Debates,
As to who is more deserving
To appreciate this gift of life?
With a stubbornness to convince,
Who is wrong.
And who is right.

What would be the point,
To argue, fuss and fight
If all of us knew this gift of life,
Was meant.

If not
Who's side of the argument makes sense?
If we all are here,
Getting the same attention.
And perhaps
In getting that attention,
There is envy and jealousy?

And anyone who says they believe with faith
Would observe that God has created abundance.
And those who choose to take and not give,
Seem to the ones self destructing.
At their own expense!
To make what point?

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Rudyard Kipling

The Light That Failed

So we settled it all when the storm was done
As comfy as comfy could be;
And I was to wait in the barn, my dears,
Because I was only three.
And Teddy would run to the rainbow's foot
Because he was five and a man--
And that's how it all began, my dears,
And that's how it all began!

Then we brought the lances down--then the trumpets blew--
When we went to Kandahar, ridin' two an' two.
Ridin'--ridin'--ridin' two an' two!
Ta-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-a!
All the way to Kandahar,
Ridin' two an' two.

The wolf-cub at even lay hid in the corn,
When the smoke of the cooking hung grey.
He knew where the doe made a couch for her fawn,
And he looked to his strength for his prey.
But the moon swept the smoke-wreaths away;
And he turned from his meal in the villager's close,
And he bayed to the moon as she rose.

"I have a thousand men," said he,
"To wait upon my will;
And towers nine upon the Tyne,
And three upon the Till."

"And what care I for your men? " said she,
"Or towers from Tyne to Till?
Sith you must go with me," said she,
"To wait upon my will.

And you may lead a thousand men
Nor ever draw the rein,
But before you lead the Fairy Queen
'Twill burst your heart in twain."

He has slipped his foot from the stirrup-bar,
The bridle from his hand,
And he is bound by hand and foot
To the Queen of Fairy Land.

"If I have taken the common clay
And wrought it cunningly
In the shape of a God that was digged a clod,
The greater honour to me."

"If thou hast taken the common clay,
And thy hands be not free
From the taint of the soil, thou hast made thy spoil
The greater shame to thee."

The lark will make her hymn to God,
The partridge call her brood,
While I forget the heath I trod,
The fields wherein I stood.

'Tis dule to know not night from morn,
But greater dule to know
I can but hear the hunter's horn
That once I used to blow.

There were three friends that buried the fourth,
The mould in his mouth and the dust in his eyes,
And they .went south and east and north--
The strong man fights but the sick man dies.

There were three friends that spoke of the dead--
The strong man fights but the sick man dies--
"And would he were here with us now," they said,
"The Sun in our face and the wind in our eyes."

Yet at the last ere our spearmen had found him,
Yet at the last, ere a sword-thrust could save,
Yet at the last, with his masters around him,
He spoke of the Faith as a master to slave.
Yet at the last though the Kafirs had maimed him,
Broken by bondage and wrecked by the reiver,
Yet at the last, tho' the darkness had claimed him,
He colled on Allah and died a Believer!

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The Creation of the Moon

The man cut his throat and left his head there.
The others went to get it.
When they got there they put the head in a sack.
Farther on the head fell out onto the ground.
They put the head back in the sack.
Farther on the head fell out again.
Around the first sack they put a second one that
was thicker.
But the head fell out just the same.
It should be explained that they were taking the head
to show to the others.
They did not put the head back in the sack.
They left it in the middle of the road.
They went away.

They crossed the river.
But the head followed them.
They climbed up a tree full of fruit
to see whether it would go past.

The head stopped at the foot of the tree
and asked them for some fruit.
So the men shook the tree.
The head went to get the fruit.
Then it asked for some more.

So the men shook the tree
so that the fruit fell into the water.
The head said it couldn't get the fruit from there.
So the men threw the fruit a long way
to make the head go a long way to get it so they could go.
While the head was getting the fruit
the men got down from the tree and went on.

The head came back and looked at the tree
and didn't see anybody
so went on rolling down the road.

The men had stopped to wait
to see whether the head would follow them.
They saw the head come rolling.

They ran.
They got to their hut they told the others that the head
was rolling after them and to shut the door.

All the huts were closed tight.
When it got there the head commanded them to open the doors.
The owners would not open them because they were afraid.

So the head started to think what it would turn into.
If it turned into water they would drink it.
If it turned into earth they would walk on it.
If it turned into a house they would live in it.
If it turned into a steer they would kill it and eat it.
If it turned into a cow they would milk it.
If it turned into a bean they would cook it.
If it turned into the sun
When men were cold it would heat them.
If it turned into rain the grass would grow and the
animals would crop it.

So it thought, and it said, "I will turn into the moon."
It called, "Open the doors, I want to get my things."
They would not open them.

The head cried. It called out, "At least give me
my two balls of twine."
They threw out the two balls of twine through a hole.
It took them and threw them into the sky.

It asked them to throw it a little stick too
to roll the thread around so it could climb up.

Then it said, "I can climb, I am going to the sky."
It started to climb.

The men opened the doors right away.
The head went on climbing.
The men shouted, "You going to the sky, head?"
It didn't answer.

As soon as it got to the Sun
it turned into the Moon.
Toward evening the Moon was white, it was beautiful.
And the men were surprised
to see that the head had turned into the Moon.

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Patrick White

Muskrat Skull, Albino Asteroid, Chunk of the Moon

Muskrat skull, albino asteroid, chunk of the moon
fallen to earth, ivory doorknob picked clean
by ants and wolves, half your teeth stacked like books
on a shelf behind the crescent moons of your fangs
and their reflections, as above so below,
that don't quite meet in the middle of the bridge
you're building like an engineer with overbite.
When I look down upon your cranium from above it's
a beautiful amphora, handles like arms at its side,
a woman hoisting her long skirt up to cross a river.

Musquash, you must be a holy food if they let the Catholics
eat you at Lent in place of fish because you spend
so much of your time aquatically. Do the wolves,
the owls, the foxes, the mink, the hawks, the fishers,
the feral dogs know they're enlightened
by the flesh of your body? You, alone, of all
the animals who tried and failed, the Gabriel
of the native creation myth that touched bottom
to bring back the starmud that made the earth,
the Gilgamesh of these Canadian wetlands.
Did a rat snake steal your herb of immortality
from the shrines of the cattails you build
at the water's edge, the bigger the harsher
the winter to come, like siloes you can take shelter in?

Little rodent, here by the river tonight, where
I'm sitting with my heart as skinless as yours
under the stars whose light feels like thorns of insight
piercing my blood, you are my only companion.
I look into the gaping sockets of your eyes
glacially excavated like most of the lakes around here,
though my third eye is aloof and impersonal
compared to the other two, and I realize
how ruthless enlightenment is, still, little guru,
I want to cry like a river that's come to rest in them
because I can see in you, like a locket of bone,
the same image of life, the Beloved,
I carry in the moonrock of my own prophetic skull.

Did the wolves do this? Did the pike eat your young
and cousin of the vole and lemming, you achieved
your climacteric like stars at the zenith of a precipice
and commit suicide at the atavistic urging of ancient enzymes?
Or did you die naturally like moonset in its crone phase,
the light slowly seeping from your eyes? Best fur
bundled up in yourself for the winter, your tail had scales.
What happened to them? Were they feathered
like dinosaurs into the boas of vaudeville strippers
that teased you with the mystery of their nakedness
and yours, by holding something back from the revelation
so there would be something left to dream on next time
like this amulet of your skull cradled in my hands?

Nocturnal janitor of the pond after all the lights
were turned off and the raucous business of the crows
had gone home for the night, what stars did you sweep up
like fallen blossoms and waterlilies trashed on the shoreline
like the first draft of origami swans
that couldn't swim in the heights with Aquila and Cygnus,
attached as they were to the earth like kites
at the end of their spinal cords, until the stars took pity
upon their lunar aspirations and landing like waterbirds
on the pond, came down like bodhisattvas
to teach them how to fly when five petals open
and one flower blooms from a seed of fire
that travels on the wind? Undertaker and midwife
what did you bury under the root fires of the hearths
of the bronze age barrow tombs you lived in with the dead
from one equinox to the next standing on your threshold?

Ubiquitous creature, materfamilias of the litter,
or randy male, lingham in the yoni of the yellow lotus,
Muscascus, it is red, your Algonquin name,
what spiritual immunity did evolution bless you with
that you could live in the sulphurous streams that ran
from the eyes of the coal mines smearing their mascara
at their first sight of hell they tunnelled into,
rooting for diamonds stashed by the star-nosed moles,
and thrive in the same polluted waters that killed
people, frogs and fish? Teach me that, if you can.

I'm an island of a man in the middle of a dirty river.
I'm a human on a barge of the moon that's dumping
the garbage of my species into the gutter of the sea
that returns like high tide to the bay
in the waters of the womb I was born in
like a salmon to swim upstream against
the effluvium of the tomb that washed me out
of my vision of life like something that got in its eyes
or one of your tumuli in the spring run off
when the river ravens with the wolves along its own shores
sweeping the baskets you weave of reeds
for orphaned prophets far out to these oceanic nights
among the wavelengths of life and death I share with you.

Millions of leaves on the ground like the fossils of flames
snuffed out on the candelabras of the trees of life,
the stars may have their crystal skulls,
but yours and mine are mineralized calcium phosphate,
fire and milk, the moon among the corals,
where the living and the dead cohabitate
like collagen turning to concrete in an underwater reef
that will rip the keels out of our driftwood lifeboats
like the envelopes of unanswerable loveletters
cut open from the bottom up. But no shelf
of exotic curiosities in the lost and found of my studio,
no bauble of death to alarm the sedimentary books
above my cherrywood desk for you my friend.

I leave you where you lie upon the earth
on the banks of life beside my mindstream,
nightwatchman of the pond, nurse on the nightshift.
I circle you three times like a spiritual orbiter
a Zen master in bloom, your skull, not
the spent canister of a milk weed pod,
but a wild orchid supple as moonlight
even in death as in bliss, attending
to the business of nirvana like a passing cornerstone
in a clearing of this floating world you weeded
like the empty cup of your eye socket
I look into like a despondent stranger into a black hole
and feel the passionate insight of your eyebeams
shining up at me like stars reading
the Braille of my face with fingertips of light
to see if I've understood yet that life in its passage
is an enlightened message, not the frightened warning
that ushers the dead back to their graves before morning.

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What Would The World

What would the world be like today
If Mary Had an abortion

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With Us Under The Light Of The Moon

do you wish to understand?
what is it that must be understood?
the stars?

situate yourself on the grass
and feel its softness

under the moon
feel the warmth of its distant light

open your eyes
to the beauty of this night

with us together
there is nothing that must be understood

we feel it
and that is enough

we love
and that is complete.

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