How could you love me to the moon and back if at dawn when you said it so, it’s new moon?
I’m telling you that no matter how far you sail away with me to search for the moon, it would still be nowhere to be found;
no matter how hard you paint the dawn, it would never turn into blue or pink, even satin cinnamon.

The moon, the sea, and the dawn have nothing to do between you and me

If it’s written in the stars... then let the stars foresee.