Slippery blades of grass slice the dawn into bite size peices of upforia. Sunrise dripping through my eyelids, squinted by the blinding beauty. Dianna, the moon, and the stars slowly fade away wispering good bye; but with the promise to return again. As the grand firey chariot rises higher while the more dramatic watercolor hues paint the sky, so that the moddest clouds blush with shyness. It rises higher yet, though now the beauty of the dawn has fadded to the glory of the day and its' feild of possibility. Whose limit is as endless as its' sky. Still soon enough with the wink of the first star. The greys, and blues, and blacks, the silvery pendant that is the moon, Dianna and the night make good on their word.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.