Serene and still, so fast asleep,
Your body, soft white gold,
Radiating morning warmth,
Wrapped up away from cold.

Your skin reflects the morning light,
sneaking through the blinds.
Your hair a thousand shades of shine,
conceals your perfect lines.

I stand here;
outside my balcony
amidst darkness
in the company
of loneliness

My soul impertaburbly
trapped between forlornness
and peacefulness


Yin and Yang perhaps,

Forlorn because the soul,
wounded and damaged perniciously by loneliness..

And peace;
because the herb...
well the herb heals
to some extent

My vessel the arena

On a forbidden course
Yang battles Yin
the odds are in his favor
THC to Yin is like aconite to wolves;

And so he weakens with every hit

The melee ends
like it was destined to
tranquil and pure bliss prevail

At that moment;
the wind starts to sing her song

Calling, whistling to his lover
the king of the night
she whistles a beautiful song
that sounds of a gentle breeze
zephyr like pushing aside clouds that
guard his majesty;
grandiosely his image is revealed
in the nightlife

Observe they all gather under the nightsky;
selenophiles
far away from each other
all in different worlds
but it's this energy that coheres them here
together

The wind starts to sing
the song of halcyon,
ogling at the moon
in veneration and exhilaration
selenophiles danced away into the night.