The moon is the king of the sky. Carried forth by chariots of white vapour clouds. Why does the moon empathise with those mean old watery ones? This is the question in my mind.
Why does the moon empathise with those mean old watery ones?
“Because it is the clouds that carry the moon.”
Could it be that the moon exists merely as consequence of those dark storms? Ah and then what gratitude does light cast upon the shadows.