For how long must the search go on

The Prophecy Old Lady held no answer

"Between stars of stars,

Among islands of sleeping clouds,

Sail through the corners of the dark,

And you might catch a glimpse of thy Boy.

Hail the Wind from north,

Present an offering of tears made from honey,

And you might hear a few words about thy Boy.

This search has been shadow-stained,

Odds of victorious cheers, are beyond me old shaky ears.

But you never know,

Thy Boy on Moon might just be round the next bend."



The entire army was sent out

Whale of Direction, Sailors of the Night,

Native Martians, Pirates of the Sky,

And Artemis out front for mutant stars.

For cycles of the Moon the team tore through every corner.

Not one dot of the cloud was left untouched.

Not a tail of his shadow was seen.



Down on the ground around the hamlet,

Villagers were huddled stuck like glue,

Their eyes hooked onto the Army in the sky.



The tale was that,

Boy on Moon doesn't head out on nights like this.

He liked crescent nights. Only crescents.

That was the best time for fishing.

Thus he would drag along his fishing rod,

Comfortably settle onto the crescent,

And into the deepest of the night,

He could be seen reeling and lifting and recasting the pole,

Fishing for the treasures down on Earth.



The Boy seemed over his own moon.

The villagers were furious.



Albums of the rarest stamps were missing

Jugs of butterbeer were sometimes spilled all over the place

Apples in the barrel were halved,

Rubies from the ancestors were gone.



Under the full moon glow the search towed on,

Sniffing every dark bend for his hideout,

The Boy on Moon,

An unpunished thief,

Son of Him Almighty Opochtli.

