The next step is to conquer the moon,
Paint it bright red,
so close to the sun rays ...
After conquering it,
Handle it with care,
Tighten it against the chest
and saying, softly:
Now, it's the glory!
Now, you're mine!
The next step is to win the itself mirror
And to be face-to-face with imperfection
and returned to those who walk in the certainty,
that the moon wasn't just an illusion,
or a short piece of moldy cheese...
(Joyce Martins)
