on my way home

On my way home, I visited the moon;
she always is there, in due time.
but is there anyone who would build a dome
of sublime construction?

giving shelter,
to those who are in need,
to those who yearn for feed?
Trickle that supply to them.
Do we have enough, is there end to pain?

And as the party starts again, just join the ball.
Less becomes more, and little is none.
It is time to know
that life is such.

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