The Moon cannot marry the Sun.

They'd burn up the sky,

And eat up the stars

With passion.

Rain would rule this world,

Fire, of course, the next.

One thing would be gain.

And one thing would be lost.

Love.

Laughter echoes from her mouth.

No, not love, not love at all.

It is not as great as you say.

Hate.

Hate to be lost and hate to be found,

But only I have lost my footing now.

Find your way, lost in the sky,

Eaten up by the Moon and her day.

Go on.

Leave.

And find her now.

Somehow.