The Sun proudly gazed over His system, His kingdom,
A small golden jewel in a milky stripe of existence. With
Nobility he ruled, strong and constant, creating the heart of
His realm, peaceful and warm, home of hearth and plenty.
But even so the Sun had a weakness: a love, a fair maiden of silver.
His light smothered her beauty, and so every day the Sun
Died so that she might illuminate his kingdom as the lotus flower
Lights the murky and bleak waters from which it’s born.
The Moon, in all her silvery elegance, blushed at such a
Genuine compliment of affection as the Sun did again begin
His surrender to night for Her, letting her glow brightly
Amidst the dark cosmos, while He quietly admired her beauty.
Yet a small plebeian rock, denying all divine law, spun between the two lovers;
The Sun stared in bewilderment at the fading of His love, and the red
She shone took an ominous turn, and slowly the shade changed from
The rosy blush of shy affection to the deep dark blood red of fear.
Thus the Sun who died every night so that the Moon could shine
Lamented as She did disappear from His sight.
Alas that a mundane existence, a mere rock of mortality,
Should estrange such a cosmic union of lovers!
Such a tragedy! The audacity of a little trivial rock to
Apprehend the beauty of His love from Him! Such a
Crime against the laws of the cosmos this meaningless pebble
Committed surely out of its own jealous impermanence!
The Sun began to swell in His anger and anguish, threatening to
Sear the material terrestrial into a brilliant raging inferno.
Death! Destruction! Rage! A massive conflagration for this unremarkable
Secular dust-pile! A plague! A holocaust against this criminal!
But then, softly in fear, the Moon reappeared before Him,
Red, this time in the reflection of the Sun’s bitterness,
She stood as He gazed upon the mirror of his own passion-
His hate, love, fear, and rage- shone from her face.
Aghast at His own burning, The Sun suddenly felt the coldness, the
Emptiness of the macrocosm without his love, the Night
Without Her love, and thus His growing nova fled in relief
Of Her return as they danced again in the heavens of eternity.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 12:13 PM UTC
The Sun proudly gazed over His system, His kingdom,
A small golden jewel in a milky stripe of existence. With
Nobility he ruled, strong and constant, creating the heart of
His realm, peaceful and warm, home of hearth and plenty.
But even so the Sun had a weakness: a love, a fair maiden of silver.
His light smothered her beauty, and so every day the Sun
Died so that she might illuminate his kingdom as the lotus flower
Lights the murky and bleak waters from which it’s born.
The Moon, in all her silvery elegance, blushed at such a
Genuine compliment of affection as the Sun did again begin
His surrender to night for Her, letting her glow brightly
Amidst the dark cosmos, while He quietly admired her beauty.
Yet a small plebeian rock, denying all divine law, spun between the two lovers;
The Sun stared in bewilderment at the fading of His love, and the red
She shone took an ominous turn, and slowly the shade changed from
The rosy blush of shy affection to the deep dark blood red of fear.
Thus the Sun who died every night so that the Moon could shine
Lamented as She did disappear from His sight.
Alas that a mundane existence, a mere rock of mortality,
Should estrange such a cosmic union of lovers!
Such a tragedy! The audacity of a little trivial rock to
Apprehend the beauty of His love from Him! Such a
Crime against the laws of the cosmos this meaningless pebble
Committed surely out of its own jealous impermanence!
The Sun began to swell in His anger and anguish, threatening to
Sear the material terrestrial into a brilliant raging inferno.
Death! Destruction! Rage! A massive conflagration for this unremarkable
Secular dust-pile! A plague! A holocaust against this criminal!
But then, softly in fear, the Moon reappeared before Him,
Red, this time in the reflection of the Sun’s bitterness,
She stood as He gazed upon the mirror of his own passion-
His hate, love, fear, and rage- shone from her face.
Aghast at His own burning, The Sun suddenly felt the coldness, the
Emptiness of the macrocosm without his love, the Night
Without Her love, and thus His growing nova fled in relief
Of Her return as they danced again in the heavens of eternity.
Request permission to use this poem