In reflex of the rising sunlight, morning will command, the dawn upon our standing, on horizons of the land. In flight of fortune to persuade, such height upon relief, the moon will then transform its beams, in sight upon receipt. In magic of the purple brush that’s cast upon the skies, the light upon reception will be drawn upon the ties. The currents wade, the flowing waters, trouble to receive, the brief of understandings, that are common to believe. In angels vision cast in fate, our destinies arrive, upon the plain of endless travels dream’t upon the tide.