At twilight, past a glistening day

he is going back home

slowly shattering behind

the steep crests of the mountain,

his scorching blaze

piercing through the woods

leached out moisture

till the very last drop,

breaking through the mists

and fogs and clouds

he made a new way

through no one’s allowed,

now past his swing

from the east to the west

he’s shuffling back stilly

to let the moon annex,

underneath the dark

Is he gaining strength?

to rise up with the Aurora

or is he all drained?

the time he was down

few posited, he resigned

from the arduous courage

he always had shone,

but, without a word

he is back to the blue

to let the horizons meet

to let it be a new dawn,

he is the covert ardor

of every dark night….

he is the ace of spheres

“the brightest star”