See the lights over here? It be the lights of some hopeful sluggers. I do believe they're awaiting some splendiour. Never heard of a splendor occurring in the gray scheme of everyday life? Why they're lonesomely awaiting some untruths? Well in tune, it is but a hope that might be rejoiced in some manner of extravagance. Not unlike a sailor's wife awaits news of her husband's landing, the people over there, by the lights, have long awaited news from beneath the sea as well. The story they hope to hear is foretold, retold and announced, many years hence. From a far away place they strive to hear what the winds bare of valuable news. If time stood still and they had but one wish, they might just wish to know - nothing more grandeur than that, but the simple and easy longitude of knowledge - that is their grand perception of such grandeur insight.
A white and airy sky arises soon upon the dawning sun.
From dusk of night till dawning light, a puppet stir its limbs.
Neither knowing, nor expecting to be any differently perceived.
All but two surrounds the endless sea of imaginary images of dreams.
What will hence become of such bewilderment in anxious strings?
Who but our little puppet strings a bleeding yearn of ill?
Every night a moonlight shadow appear unapproached.
He who sees and listens, but not for own sake sleep.
Gaia meets crookedly with him once upon a year.
