Sun-tipped Cirrus, edged in pink and blue,
Clouds and tree-tops line and frame my view.
Wither blows that wind tonight
That drifts the wisp-clad castles right?
As the moment shifts I turn to face the moon.
And she returns my gaze with gentle grace;
Her lambent charm transcends the gathering gloom
That quick devours the land
And steals the freedom of my sight.
Pink and blue now joined by red and gold.
Painted fresh strange sky-born art of old.
Born again to out-live human hearts;
If not at once; the sunset in repeat.
Sun-tipped Cirrus melts to mint-clipped green.
Sun-tipped Cirrus burns and drowns in Sapphire seas.
All will by consumed by vacuous Obsidian.
But the moon, she still looks on with grace;
Her charm transcending midnight's shroud of dark
That hides the idling river and the silent hill.
On her alone I feed and fill my sight;
Lady moon alone rides out the night.
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