As the night crept quietly over our little town
We whispered wishes to the moon
Through a gourd we set on the river to wash down
And into the swamps of the evil forest

We heard a weeping child at night silenced by growling wolves
Teaching it early lessons of life and fate
Someone later asked how we could
Permit one so young to be taught by beasts
We replied that, we are all the same and,
Nature merely aided in what we had been late to do

A little girl wishes to set sail to the edge of the world
In search of a purpose, love and the supposed meaning of her life
Her mother wailed like she was weeping the dead
While her father beamed from ear to ear
Watching his child disappear with the sunset and,
Praying to share a sunrise with her another day

When the heretic entered the shrine
To seek wisdom and knowledge on the arts of divining
The Babalawo laughed and took off his chains
They is no more in these palm nuts or in all the world than what you bear in your soul
Through that mystery will you receive the wisdom of all mysteries
Return again tomorrow my son, a man

The town crier didn’t beat his gong this morning
He’s either dead or the king is
Either way best we stay at home today
I’m tired anyways.

– Madeleine C. Claire & Auguste J. Baudelaire