He was wrapped with the incense of rain; crowned in ebony and cloaked with the image of black waters. His subtlest movements brought forth the gusts of winds, and he drowned others’ footsteps with the sound of raindrops. His smiles shone up there high, against the backdrop of a distant life – framed by the proud masts of the sky. His crescents found me once, just as the night eclipsed to a close. We both went to see the Marina that night, but never shall a time that is right, will come and let us see each other again in sight.