Sweet sun beams that grace the morning gently
Turn sick with age as the afternoon floats eerily in
All the promises of the day; made in its hasty youth
Fade into the bloody orange of death at sunset
When the cool and regal night is born
Every move is measured by a clock that’s on the wall
By the way the ocean moves; how the stars align
Or by all the days that waste and die in vain for me
When I do not love the light enough to live in it
And the grey pours in on suffocating clouds
The rain tumbles down, drenching earth with acid judgment
Proving that all god’s are indeed jealous god’s
Even the soft and tender deities we have created
The goddesses of the earth; the gentle and convenient god’s
Still empty out the buckets of their wrath upon us
But the ticks keeping ticking to answer the tocks
No day is ever safe from that inevitable cloak that is night
Day after day is easy to ignore until it has stretched and become years
Quietly, passively trudging into the sparkling horizon
Wandering away unnoticed; hidden by the brilliance of the setting sun