In a night ever dreamless
Across a backdrop of black
There are no stars, nor their beams to guide us
Was I the one who beckoned this?
Did my yearning turn the earth
As we slithered away from the light?
What is this face that’s always changing?
Is this visage now waxing?
Or is this sliver ever waning?
This sickle cuts me a new soul
Change is not the goal
But the constant beam enlightened
In the face of the man in the moon
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