In a lost, forgotten land,
Far, far away,
There could be heard,
Beneath the cluster of canopy,
Of giant silver oak trees,
On a tropical floor of yellows and reds,
The voices of the moon,
Which every little twig and leaf,
Fresh, dry or auburn,
Covered with a sheet of dew,
Loved to whisper,
Off their supple, delicate bodies,
To the dense conglomeration,
Of dark beauty,
That welcomed the lunar songs,
Wailings of immortals,
Seeking respite of the eternal elixir of pure light.

Wisps of fog descend,
Brooding on the forest floor,
Where lies not a soul,
No one blessed with a conscience of their own.

How desolate,
How in vain,
Do the chants of the moon go,
Of course, no one will know,
But as rain pours,
And calms the temperate,
The smell of wet soil liberates,
Hope is new found,
Love is abundant.

Within the ambiance of loneliness,
Came a light,
A shimmering beacon of pure energy,
With a promise,
Maybe even a dream,
And spread its wings,
To let behold the world,
Its destiny towards a miracle,
Engulfing in itself, darkness,
Rediscover our planet,
The big blue planet,
The one that rotates with sheer enormity,
Taking its annual walk around a bright champion,
In lady like frivolity,
Showering grace on the four great seasons,
Expressing the whims of god.

All is one,
And one is all,
She sees the meaning of life through my eyes,
And I hers,
Scars of war are forged,
Hope the brave have courage enough to tread,
While the sky collapses in the horizon,
Forsaking us to a cold, dark nightmare,
I beg of you, do not forget us,
Our eyes may not see,
Our touch sends shivers down our spines,
A crackle of determination,
Reminds us of the purpose of our existence,
I will redeem you first,
Then redeem myself in the eyes of god.