We were mahjong pilgrims in the flat desert night,
in the lone studio situated in the intellectual tract,
while the music accompanied us,
Sony speakers eager to create oases of sound,
as the remaining hours of day wanes.
The night loped at a timeless pace,
with heavenly hand once, and numerous four great blessings hand,
pretty much wins reigned,
then the absence of Ventrino Vortex rendered us into brilliant sheen,
my distinct entity met with your soul.
Balanced, rapturously,
the moon has laid herself down,
the distant line of the horizon,
began to glimmer with a warm edge of daylight,
we witnessed the sky’s evolution from black to azure.
We were engulfed between cool blue waning,
and golden dawn fire waxing,
we headed for our morning ‘s rest,
the ticking sound belied a hint of brassy,
it ceased worshipping the dark.
Between the moon and the sun,
between you and me,
in the exact moment,
that our day was born of night;
that our story kicked off being the devout members of sun cult.
