The moon stamped upon the heaven by night,
With unlimited dimensions,
This vision speeds through time and space.
A beauty like this is so hard to capture,
Tomorrow will be different,
Yesterday was not the same,
So upon what shall I hope to have this feeling again,
I may try to obstruct the sands of time,
Stand stock still so I can stare,
At one kind of beauty for the rest of my life,
The front, the sides, the back, the top,
All closed to another sign of life.
What is goodness?
To share my vision of beauty with people,
That is good.
What is life but a good feeling?
From where do I derive the strength to move,
To eclipse those lines crossed,
And yet to be crossed.
Where does it derive?
How should I recieve my instructions,
The ones that will lead me on in my search for benevolence,
Simply, be silent, and listen,
For a while,
Until the chatter falls,
And it is my turn to make and to contrive.