Tumultuous sprays of foam waltz across the tie dyed sky. Afternoons spent wandering the nearby unknowns. Eventually the shroud unfurled and offered a sliver of reality. Lifting the head from a downward gaze. Glad to be content with one's own thoughts. Though nearing an end your signs and symbols were cursed. But I say to you:
Wax and wane, come and go, the moon, the tides they've all been named.