"Oh how the echo’s fall barren,
the grass on the mesa plane
The moon popping from canyon side to the other.
Oh how her face paints a color field black across the invisible distance of the horizon line.
I speak of the casms viewpoint,
from above and below.
The clouds paint flowers, and a sweet moonlit desposition.
The dark sky hangs the moon and stars with an irridescent glow.
I am one with the night sky
one with the galaxies above”