True, any moon would be a harsh mistress
But some worlds have two or three satellites
While mine has only one moon to obey.
Luna dominates the starlight, then wanes,
Her silver hands heavy upon the tide
Of an ocean that I no longer see.
She has grown deaf to the music of my prayers.
But some worlds have two or three satellites
While mine has only one moon to obey.
Luna dominates the starlight, then wanes,
Her silver hands heavy upon the tide
Of an ocean that I no longer see.
She has grown deaf to the music of my prayers.
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