Beware the sun my son, the rays that will burn the once empty sky. Beware the moon, my child, and shun the cold, dead night. Now take the stars in stride and hand, become the wanderer of the open road. Watch the birds and clouds with awe, never one to tally or delay.
Bluebirds peck the rotten fruit while, Finches learn to wait
Now head ahead my boy, and view into the growth. Open and closed the new world will stand, through the eyes that see it.
Now go jauntily into the stars my son, in which clouds are friends alike. Don't hold your breath over failing stars and do what you must and wish.