Beneath the darkness of the night,
Within the shadow of the Bleeding Tree,
The man lies upon the ground—
Gazing upon the shinning half-moon,
And the glorious stars within its midst,
Each one full of life, and some dead or now dying;
Dark clouds form in the shape of ambitious hands—
Like the shadows of branches upon the ceiling,
When heavy winds force them to dance—
And consume the half-moon;
The darkness of the night now becomes overwhelming,
Allowing the stars to shine more than ever,
The man gazes upon these stars,
And, because the half-moon hides,
He searches for constellations—
Above him lies Orion’s Belt and Scorpio,
Although he cannot find any others,
A shooting star flies through the darkness of the night,
Giving the man a sense of pride—
After the shadow of the Bleeding Tree,
Slightly shifted to the left,
The dark clouds floated past the half-moon,
The shine of the half-moon darkened,
The wind swayed the branches of trees,
And the Bleeding Tree bled once;
Then, when the shadow of the Bleeding Tree,
Slightly shifted again to the left,
The shine of the half-moon brightened tenfold,
The breeze of the wind became calm,
And the Bleeding Tree bled once more;
The man now gazed upon the half-moon,
And then, again, another shooting star,
Flew through the darkness of the night,
Giving the man a sense of wonder—
“There has to be a girl out there,
Just as beautiful as that shooting star”;
His mind became set on the half-moon,
After that shooting star flew by—
“I am that half-moon, searching for my other half…
When shall I find my other half?”
Then, when the shadow of the Bleeding Tree,
Shifted one-hundred eighty degrees to the left,
The sunrise caught his eyes—
For the half-moon hid forevermore,
Until the next darkness of the night—
And he stood as the man he knew,
The man that could watch over,
The half-moon and the sunrise…