Whipped cream heaped clouds floated over the ever-darkening sky. With each hue darker, the moon glowed deeper and rose further away from the creamy clouds. As trees blended together in the darkness, her moon majesty sent a dusting of gold leaf cover over the clouds.
Leonard Cohen sings into my being. The cars, a music, enter and peter out of the soundtrack. As the moon levitates above, my eyes lower in silent prostration. The world rejoices in our place.