Warnings across the windows
Dawn falls with the beach cloud
Grey cloud that curdles
Then tickles the roundness of three moons
When the distraction of raising names and painting walls has been framed
Then maybe we can fix our eyes to the horizon
Each moon shines to celebrate each moon shines to blind
For luck behind this monstrosity of a storm the moons are hardly seen
And begging the modern age to share it's wisdom would be a crooked key for a straight lock
And wishing things were not as they are as the winds mischievously whistle tragic omen
Fear not for the danger comes not from without
Bad intentions start from where people measure hands and wrists and layers of dirt
The light of three moons will never change that
Nor will the telescope that reveals it as an optical illusion.
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