Victory does not praise me

Find wonder in the artifice, please,

And let your doubt and worry clear.

This canvas dome , these fabric trees,

look upon the paper sphere.

Where cardboard ships take flight,

Above the sea, a painted dream.

A paper promise of the night.

The moon is just a disk,

A fragile gleam.

The fleeting moments slip away.

Although, They hold me captive in their sway.

There is no praise of victory ,

No crimson flush.

It just drifts back to the sea,

With a silent hush.