∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙ The daystar fills his folly time; warmth, passion, fulfillment and ease. But thy heart was blinded by much uncertainty. His love for the night is like a transient song with the urge to lurk a distant tone. For as he knew; one can never be wrong
The beam of the moon waketh, And lo, it silks to that may-time dew. She rise and sets to an empty hemisphere to yonder mountains of ebony hue. An angel cries for thy night has fallen to thee. To that heartless lover without a single plea.
The heartless day, the drops of night. A blazing trail of his dubious light. The day ponders to his dessert dreams, may they met again or never again as it seems. As the night trod to her vanishing place. She gazed to the day rising to his misty grace.