It’s that time again.

The sun pales in the west.
What is there about the dusk
That lowers our songs to sotto voce
We marvel at the fire in the western sky
Yet hear a soft chant of mourning in our souls.

Who can explain that primal veil of sadness?
Could it be the passing of revealing light
Or guilt over dreams left un-chased?
Perhaps we fear Apollo’s chariot
Will be lost on the other side.

The sun will greet the new day
And bathe us in all cleansing light
Chance and skill again will dance for us
And what passes will mock our expectations.
What bold psychic can unlock the codes of chaos?

When in the sun’s great circling the dusk returns,
To shroud our hearts with curious regrets,
We will take solace in the setting sun
The night will sort the chaos out
And give us needed synthesis.

It’s that time again.

*July, 2006