The Natives watch you cross indigo skies.
Your waxing crescent milks the sated sun,
On beaming Heaven's torch through darkness comes.
Your gibbous planet's zeal reflects how wise
Her face, full circle by 24 hours,
Unleashing spiritus - invokes, inspires.
Beyond the dusk by night with stars conspires
Unadulterated acts her will gives powers.
No person speaks the full moon's twelve titles -
May's flowers, August's sturgeon, April's pink,
Lunar phases eloquently vital,
A thirst for which your presence I must drink.
Bosom of the night we beseech thy grace
Your cool and distant splendor thus replace.