Now she is silent. Yesterday was another story, but now, no, now she is silent. The moon was to cast a gaze on the splendor they once so happily infused in one another, but not now. Now the eloquent temptress of a faint memory haunts her. An image of her forbidden self, a wanderer without a mantle seeking the moon in the relentless darkness of her void. Now she weeps for the turning of her tides was met with bitter distress. No, not this time, not the tides she rode helplessly in the infancy…