Sun

When to augustine skies I stare,
Mine eyes are willingly led astray,
When so constant stays the burning blaze,
How can I behold him in single gaze?

In little pools, in and around,
Are strewn sprightly blooms, and some do crowd,
Pansies nurtured and then caressed,
Bursting to a selfless touch.

Yonder upon the seven seas,
He sprinkles a shimmer I cannot see,
But I can close mine eyes and feel,
Little trinkets upon my palm he leaves.

The sun, of mysterious alchemy,
Spilling forth rubies of twilight charm,
Painted yellow at other times,
So many palettes, yet so much warmth.

When the world he does illuminate,
The febrile nights of shadow and horror find and end,
In patience, the mortals await,
To then be rewarded.

The magnitude of his influence, I cannot clasp,
And claim for mine ,nay, it shan’t be so,
For he rests in the calm of a heavenly abode,
And would burn me, if I stepped too close.


A thousand eras does he span,
Providing for thousands more, a thousand lives,
But even as equal, every one of them he regards,
The fancy trinkets glimmer now; nabbed in single fist, he may belong...


3 am. 9th of August.