O fast day that trembles at the sight of Moon - when will your warm arms bend again the night's thick armor that shades the world of joyous muse?
It is most facetious in its illusion, that renegade of pale indifference, when daylight dwindles and leaves more to imagine than can be seen with naked eye.
Beneath the gaze of Her taunting face, people do not walk as done in light - suddenly, trudging and stumbling are the hip style. Faces covered in guilt, remorse, fatigue - all the things Sun can wash away with a simple, lucid grin.
If brightest light were set ablaze in midst of night, would not the people be plucked from false sanctuary which darkness so convincingly provides? Then many a Lost could be freed; if only to see clearly through effervescent haze.
O blessed Sun! With your arousal, Truth and Freedom will also reprise - until again that blank stare casts its malevolent glow on Delusion.