and the moon wraps me in its dust a cold dust that freezes my sore skin as the stars twinkle in a warm vigil over my yearning body ablaze with the fire of quests still to be satisfied together the moon and the stars brew a romance in bloom like wild flowers starring the open fields with colour the old moon weeps cheerless songs Β Β Β Β melodies never before heard by untutored human ears or played by arthritic fingers in search of a miraculous cure as acidic woes from dim pasts and distances **** nascent dreams stranger than the quirkiest fictional tales is the story of cold moons in tropical skies nevertheless i shall lean forever towards that dream whose promise is a pale shadow of reality