Jul 12, 2008 13:16
The half moon waits, sullenly, its halo stolen by years of blood-coloured clouds overshadowing its elegance.
Its sister stars raid the sky of its blackness (at least it can be thankful for that) though she can't help but wonder if
under the shadow of the earth's horizon while it slept, things did in fact progress according to plan,
with moons on wholly alien planets shining like moons do, to keep awake at night, those whose fates were not so clouded.
To keep awake at night, their philosophers to work til sun rises.
(when the sun rises all goes according to plan, except if you are sleeping away the day)
The moons which keep awake -- with the aide of gnomes, who work at the artifice that ticks away, moving celestial bodies without cease -- the philosophers, who work at not such a grand art that moves moons, they at least answer to Saturn when the day is done.
The moon would ask her philosophers, "How to wax full? And outshine the clouds, so that the world that I'm in may have peace?"
but the philosophers are all sleeping, and they can only hear its whispers in their sleep.