Upon the sweet moonlight, pale. Over the pines of the fair morning horizon where that which dream with sapphire eyes take to rest. Over the misty hills, bleak. The quiet young morrow casts foreshadow of vexatious dank. Capture the spirits blown from the north, beckon them forth. To bathe in the shadows cast from the south, and frolic in the pedals drift from its mouth. Roll in the grass grown in the west and hear the chant of the ancients at its crest. The resounding roar of the beasts, unique to the east.

Light forms around the crescent of flowers swirling in widdershins, illuminating the periphery in beauty. And at land’s end comes sudden as a storm; the ocean’s, bleak shores immaculate as its celestial presence; the magical glitter bores without fault. From which the tender loins of the lifeless land aggregate. To banner fair as life itself. To twist and fold, unrelenting against persuasive steppes. The conflict of influence spares a great pontification of water and wind. Bring forth and come hither conscience of nature where those whom dream with sapphire eyes become unclean. To share malignancy upon the earth and the sky, but who can say the root of all evils? The thought—an influx of perils a postulate from he**, and a sign of vanquishing rain from heaven. May the rain douse the fires?

Death and life, how blissful how pure. The inception of fallacy—impossible to cure. But true unity—implausible to procure. Why should hands of the free be bound to the mist? Why should malevolent minds incarcerated be allowed to persist? And why should those mundane be governed and held in vain? The answers lay aside the dreamers. Cast in unfaltering slumber, divine eyes are born. Integrity instilled in divine minds acquired and sworn. Residence in winter spares not its horn. And salvation of human thoughts tempted to mourn.