Slowly waltzing in the cloudy sky, it passes behind clouds, swirls around stars.
Emanating sacred light, as bright as holy fire, pretending to be the sun, stealing the spotlight for half a day.
Mantra of discovery, covered by a cloak of darkness, arises deep in the soul.
Self-defining hatred put aside to make room for the mistery about to unfold.
Upon the dancing moon lay a shadow,
of mist and deception, stepping alone,
tears of dreary stream down the cheeks, a sight of dread,
unreachable, such misfortune...
Lift up a hand and hope she sees it, hope she takes it,
but it's hard to see beyond the drape of sorrow,
it burns the soul, blinds the heart,
fuels the fire of hate or drenches love in dark undertones.
And thus she never sees it, and walks behind the now setting moon.
Bitter after tastes, a small hint of metalic aroma flows in the air, like the smell of freshly smeered...