I look to the sky on a damp fall morn,
The early blue heaven marred streaks
Clawed by many shades of gray.
Far off to the West were mountains
Waiting for the coming day
And above them was a floating rock:
The full and glowing moon.
Just as the sun blew its waking horn
From behind the Eastern peaks
The dim orb stopped; it had something to say:
Come to me, my child, so lost you are;
Here on the craters you will find righteous way.
It is only this globe that these earthly legs can walk
But up there – where it’s glowing – my thoughts forever loom.