It's frantic but soothing,
Romantic but brooding,
The Whispers of the sky that whirl the clouds,
Whisp within the broken hearts,
Profound melancholy,
Our yearns,
The perpetually tragic night earns,
Thus the moon shys away,
Bribing the clouds to have it's say,
The clouds form the quit to free the moon from its guilt,
Hiding it away,
But I hope to see the moon as clear as sun,
Who knows it's worshipped,
Spilled into words of praise,
Whilst the moon sighs in envy,
Eluding jealousy a tale so refined,
Forged within sorrows it steals the light,
Wishing for the sun to set so it can have it's rise,