The light stood erect in the moonlight
Attempting to project its glare
Onto the damp bay
Struggling glint cutting in bits and pieces
By the selfless oak shining in the spotlight
And as I observed through broken glass
I raise concern and a sense of identity with the persistent light
If I should admire all that survives
all that clears the ridged paths
In vigorous praise or failure
Freegrandmaa 