Waiting forbearingly for the light of the wavering moon. The moon in all her immaculate purity hung in the sky, laughing at this world of dust.
My heart waxes and wains with her ever-changing face. Oh moon, bathe upon me all that my weary heart has beguiled me; all of which your light has never shone.
I lie, eagerly on the ground awaiting that sinful pleasure of being moonstruck.
