Incited to reminiscence, on my patio roof I sitting as frequently I do in the late several hours of the night: wall space but no windows, a mounting wind rattled arriving from the Pacific Marine a few miles away, talking to Elohim, and his son Jesus, Master of Hosts. I preserved recalling my younger times, while thinking of the moon, as if it was my neighbor, I actually appeared to not have no chance to grow sleepy, but drifted faraway from the three subjects: talking, daydreaming and the searching for the moon. Had We not had a nightlight on the patio, and a street light along with my home, it would have been pitch-darkness. My house large as it is has a manorial self-esteem to it, hard to light up the spacious roof patio best circumstance scenario. To many of my neighbors I have always been just an emaciated old man, poet of kind, hence a tinge odd for my ways. There is something provocatively fascinating relating to this night.
The sky viewed of the graces and spaciousness of a bygone era. The clouds appeared like great ionic key elements reaching into a soaring cross, with wings, and a fishtail on the end-back: steely and dreary white, in coloration, it was a drifting cloud that surrounded the phase of the moon. Though now convinced that the moon would never show this evening, that it had deserted myself, I nevertheless hesitated to think, perhaps it might show, if I asked its creator? The atmosphere was so cloudy with mist, it appeared it might even storm. Got I to wager on this I might have, and possibly it would have rained torrents but it didn't, for the skies had a peculiar quality in its deep haze: almost with a musical technology voice. I felt joyfully chilly, packed with curiosity, for reasons uknown it had heightened looking, gazing for the phase of the moon where it should be, looking for a speck of light that might be the moon, it was extremely dim now, I asked its founder if he'd show myself his beautiful moon, if only for a minute. But I'd not brain none if He don't show it tonite, seven out of ten evenings, the sky in Lima is so packed with wetness from the Ocean, the moon never shows, and this was one of the nine. In requesting, within a few minutes the sky cleared around the moon, and it was full and shiny, laconic words can easily testify to this, it was your work of the Noble, bringing up the mist to expose his carved stone orb, called Earth's moon, which provided me a gateway to its beauty, covered with blue-dark matter, for a sky, in the night time darkness surrounds it. Vexation, with a touch of love from heavens.
The sky viewed of the graces and spaciousness of a bygone era. The clouds appeared like great ionic key elements reaching into a soaring cross, with wings, and a fishtail on the end-back: steely and dreary white, in coloration, it was a drifting cloud that surrounded the phase of the moon. Though now convinced that the moon would never show this evening, that it had deserted myself, I nevertheless hesitated to think, perhaps it might show, if I asked its creator? The atmosphere was so cloudy with mist, it appeared it might even storm. Got I to wager on this I might have, and possibly it would have rained torrents but it didn't, for the skies had a peculiar quality in its deep haze: almost with a musical technology voice. I felt joyfully chilly, packed with curiosity, for reasons uknown it had heightened looking, gazing for the phase of the moon where it should be, looking for a speck of light that might be the moon, it was extremely dim now, I asked its founder if he'd show myself his beautiful moon, if only for a minute. But I'd not brain none if He don't show it tonite, seven out of ten evenings, the sky in Lima is so packed with wetness from the Ocean, the moon never shows, and this was one of the nine. In requesting, within a few minutes the sky cleared around the moon, and it was full and shiny, laconic words can easily testify to this, it was your work of the Noble, bringing up the mist to expose his carved stone orb, called Earth's moon, which provided me a gateway to its beauty, covered with blue-dark matter, for a sky, in the night time darkness surrounds it. Vexation, with a touch of love from heavens.
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