Dark side of the moon comes around.
But in its shadow little foxes are found.
Dark side is image that is a blind spot.
We would think the light makes it hot.
Lest we blame our love on the moon.
So then we are told there is no spoon.
In our grievance we grieve even more.
Were not aware of the foxes before.
In our dreams the visions will come.
Our ignorance prove we were dumb.
Little foxes spoiling our vine, truly.
When their expectations are unruly.
Blind sided in the shadow of doubt.
I search for answers to figure it out.
A signed paper that takes me down.
For an enemy no where to be found.
The dark then light in a spinning Grey.
Invisible foxes are hiding from day.
Friends are closer to me in shadow.
But the little foxes stay in meadow.
They have nothing to hide but them.
But there is more to vine than stem.
The vine of moons blooming in day.
The pearl necklace in my Milky Way.
Their point is taken deep in my back.
Even though my awareness was slack.
But now I know that they are there.
I'll be looking for them every where.
