Have you e'er seen a scarlet moon with glitt'ring beams upon the dune
Of sand and pebbles, fair and bright, with shining red and mighty white?
O moon why do you do me wrong?  Have I e'er dismayed your song
Of love and joy and peace and friends that echoes on throughout our ends?
Do you opppose my joyful mood, while your sombre twinkles brood?
Your beauty does surmount by far, that of any shining star,
But still you seem as incontent as mailer without message sent.
O woe unto the day you sprung your bitter hate for lover's lung
Which sighs and adds upon the clouds a mist of many lovers' shrouds.
Cannot you see; you're not the light which governs both the day and night?
Neither light can claim to this, while us mortals watch in bliss
Transitions on between the two, with sunsets; orange, red and blue.
Do you forget the one who owns this briliant light through which is shown
The beauty of the stars above, just as white as inn'cent dove?
O scarlet moon, o scarlet moon, I wish that I could join your tune
And write a chorus to the strain where voices meet and drown out pain,
Where scarlet moons come once again and shine their light into the den
Of human beings, small and young, and sing to them with silver tongue.
But from my lips this short ode goes, as may the sands between the toes
Of people sitting on the dune, staring at a scarlet moon,
And wondring why the Lord has put a bloody moon under his foot.
The answer lies not in a poem, nor in a song, nor in a tome,
In fact it lies inside of you, the person whom I write this to.
With creation, you've been made, to wield the hammer and the spade
To build and tear in your own lands, the works you do with your own hands.
Just remember creation's song, one that echoes eternity long:
The Lord has made you with his care, every freckle, vein and hair
He wants to make the best of you, and with this ode so do I too
Be ruled by me, think of your God, when you look back at dunes you've trod.