And what happens when they put out the Sun? Cosmic misfortunes, raining black on everyone. Will you see the truth? Will you recognize yourself? Will you look to the sky for a Man with your heart? Recognize. You lived life, to please which was far from your part.
And so a vacuum you become when you go to please away. And leave the grapes of crescent Moons to bask in all which while you play – symphonies for others while you bend to become Mothers. You are tasteless in your patterns, you are keen to become others.
And so who are you? Who are you when the Sun goes out and the dark is all we see? We lay gasping for last breaths as colds remind us why we’d seen. The colors of cool matter which are all, in all, we feel – And become voices, among people, and not just footprints prior reeled...
When the blacks of Moons are all we see, and we swim in dead of night, I hope they’ll recognize my voice, for I’d have tried with all my might. To step from line, and once use light, to burn in all that’s right in me. With no more Sun, and sight of eyes, only true …will breathe easy.
