Fading Moon.
Out into waters of the night.
Clouds will rise out of sight.
Mornings mist,
while rain falls down;
out into rivers,
from town to town.
A setting sun,
fading away;
to come again,
lighting the way.
The moon is quarter,
two thirds tear.
Clouds are home
in light and year.
Skies are full,
birds on the wing;
they laugh,
they cry,
a story they sing.
Trees will flower,
blossom then bloom,
once to come again,
the fading moon.
Mountains are full,
freedom to behold.
They give,
they live,
for young and old.
Water settles,
then rise up,
the master comes,
drink from his cup.
A.o.R.
