Poet and Poetry.

The slating rays of down awaken my thoughts, widen the unstable horizon.
High noon gives the thoughts, its key words and description but rubs it of its mystery replace nudity with darkness.
As the mind ponders, I left and my gaze from my bed, the full moon looked huge as if child has outsized head with a luminescent silver disc wrap up around infinite navy swirls.
The sight transfixed me, as it seemed within arm's reach just to my window.
Again, I looked to the ground the buds are opening their scent boxes, where the science search for its metabolism, and I am enjoying the beauty holds with it.
The victory I get is immense satisfaction what all of the humanity would not be able to find it in one go.
It is the poet and his victory.