The wind sur­ged for­ward
Forward with all its might
The stub­born cloud refu­sed to move
And give way to the moon­light.

Upon such a night the loo­ny
Who shall be cal­led Eugene
Mused upon the sor­did sky saying,
"Oh how I wish, the moon­light were green…".

A day of chores had left the lad
In a state which see­med awry
Taking a hea­vy breath he said,
"Oh how I wish, my throat were dry…".

The sea was foa­ming and fro­thing
Akin to the oils of cas­tor
And now he see­med to wish too much
For he said,
"Oh how I wish, my heart was bea­ting fas­ter…".

The rap­ture was unpa­ral­le­led
For the aro­ma was of an ester
The per­sistent wind remin­ded him
Of the mea­dows in Grantchester.

He had an orange, full well and round
Which he threw before he could peel
And this was queer because
Hunger was all he could feel.

Benumbed was he, but still he tread
In search of elation…a desire, strong
"I remem­ber I had left it here…"
He year­ned for it all along.

Tears of joy and shades of grey
When he had found his bliss
It ascen­ded from the laby­rinths
And took him into the abyss.

The smoke, it rose from the pit
And subli­med into the vast sky
He won­de­red if it met the stars
He won­de­red if he could reach that high…

He fixed his gaze onto the star­less sky
And won­de­red why it ree­led his head,
And won­de­red why he could still see stars,
And won­de­red why his eyes were red…

His trip to the shore was brief
One he wished would not pro­long
But the night had just star­ted
It had been the pot all along.