Where light is sun, moons shall pluck, foretelling
astronomy— Of the eyes set on luck; time has
become the many seasons of quality. All in the
brief moments that soon fall away— Like roaring
thunder to the ground. Only with the heavens predicting
all time, In her eyes filled of endless knowledge,
and it's wisdom brightest as constant stars.

Praying for the light to touch my mind— Resting
on my tongue. Oh Solomon's wisdom; of having
it echo through my heart. Granted to me on Earth,
I asked of you my God.