The moon rises in all its glory
as each star tells its story,
Of wars with the sun,
Of a time when it had its own light.
How with jealousy it was done,
whilst the moon the sun did benight.
I remember when they each other loved.
Then the sun began to court,
the mighty cloud Oort.
To its missiles it lent its light.
It adorned them with radiance bright,
and the moon was left in the dark.
Weep not, O glorious moon,
even if the sun changes as the sand dune,
for something greater is here.
It has not looked on you with disdain.
Trying to leave his darkness dear,
It will have its own light again.