With his canoe, he paddled on the lone sand
Deafening noise and yet no sound
For years he awaited the sun’s appearance at night
He grew so weak that he became a knight

His greatest fear is that he is fearless
Taking caution with him implies one is careless
Those in his future died in the time past
So slow that he won every race before they start

Perfectly imperfect to be seen as perfect
Gallantly, he strolled around the crowded but empty market
And towards the woman who was the husband of her wife
Then she sold to the man who neither came to buy nor sell

Long life to the king destined to die young
Through whom their happiest sorrow “sprung”
Sadly, they composed the song for his coronation
Happily, it was sang at his funeral
Where he delivered a speech as their general

The lines are hidden inside the moon
You need a missal to crack this.



Hidentity is an African.

mehn i v to think much b4 i crack d code. NYC1

Nice n complicated