By the shade of night and beauty in the moonlight, the land is transfixed by an indigo perplexion of mystery. Mists from the distant mountains drift over the barren hills as the shallow waters of the nearby tributary serve as a mirror towards the icy reflection of the pale moon.
Withered away under the gaze of the faraway stars, its branches are bare and its spirit is hollow but despite the passage of time, the lone guardian maintains its eternal vigil in days of brilliance and nights of gloom.

Like the supermoon that is coming.
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