The moon's crescent is smiling at me, as if it knew the fire beneath its lips is the shadow of those once cared about him and died. The clear voice of repentance flows along the wind, it is the scent of years of injustice blowing at the moon's face making the fire grow angrier. If only the moon had known the heat would have made him cry... The moon's tears are suffocating the flames, still not understanding how their pain is his own, their joy is his own, and their love is his own. If he had known, would the moon stop smiling at me, and begin to give? Yes, give what he would like to have. Don't stop crying cause' there is still much fire to extinguish, there is still so much to give, there is still so much love to be. Each one of those tears will cleanse the turbulent past that links in our shadowy minds. If only the moon had known the consequences of the wind's blow, never would it have lied to us. It said," There is nothing enchanting in my smile; it is all about you, for without you, there is no me. If only I had known, would I have given what I wanted to receive? Yes, give, because if you weren't there; who would see me for who I really am. You." The moon stopped smiling at me; it now knew how to smile at it all. The dead became the nourishing grounds for a new flourishing, within, us.