I travel daily
To chase the Sun, it's radiance empowers me
For things that lose meaning.

I , insignificantly scurry along my labors
under the Sun's demanding gaze.
"Make haste," Said He,
" For I will not remain fixed; I must fly."

I labor, weary of his glare.
And yet, where work is through,
I journey west, in vain of his flight,
hoping for his purpose in warmth.
Instead, I am faced with the harsh reality:
The Moon is cold and distant, and will not suffer herself to give warmth or purpose.

And so, I repose.
Waiting for the race to begin anew,  
To renew my spirit within the purposes of the Sun.