Mirages caress the air in celebration of hope once lost they will breathe now but wither at dusk when the sun has lost its patience seeking a worthy companion no one ever shines like him, he thinks not in arrogance but longing in an exhaustion of otherness and he knows he has busy hands. whorish and predictable he will always leave eastern shores for western ones gently touching bodies of water or angrily scorching the audacity of land still being there without him at times the earth trembles at his powers breaks protests and the sand's shoulders go limp but rest assured tomorrow the sun will ****** those lands not in heat and will still be lonely will still not know the life he gives or hope to barren lands and northerners still not know that he's a part of everyone. he IS the celebration