We’re gliding along and over
a carpet of white down.
Outside my window she is suspended,
a pale round moon,
shining above a snowy white horizon,
her face an ancient rune.
A star winks out for now, and then
we begin to descend,
the creamy white orb is still shining through
a pale pink sky
and a now wispy hazy white atmosphere.
The carpet breaks, we fly.
The sky is becoming lighter,
brighter and now bright blue.
We’re dipping then turning, another dip…
The white and blue
are separated by a stream of gold thread,
about to end anew.
A round golden drop peaks above
the stream and rises high.
A blinding light flashes out signalling,
jewel in a crown.
We are falling and gliding into a dawn,
flying out of moon-down.