It is the new dew greeting the bugs and buds
Whose magic legs and pegs remains serene;
As sky spy and scan our pious heart’s silence?
Yet the new moon blooms sheen, showers silver sapience;
Giving all boons to the myriad morning mongers,
Gosh! sudden surreal surprise by thy charming harbinger.
Ave! the patience and penance leads us to calm,
Where wealth wilts and weathers like bird’s feather;
We will fill our empty pot with immortal nectar, and pour embalming