The road which I took awhile ago, Is a long winding path and narrow, At the borders from where my feet stands Are the remains of dirt and burrow I look beyond bending horizon, Behind the mountain the sun had gone The violent wind blew, clouds had flown The gradient sky to pitch-black it turned Then the lonely silver moon had shone while the sea of stars danced on its light.
This might be the hundredth time I wrote about the sky so please bear with me.