He is the sun and the moon,
a cycle of hope and light
fading into elluminated night.
Every day,
"we cannot be."

His day lights the possibility,
touching, dreaming, not forsaken.
But during the night we're awakened.
Reminded,
"we cannot be."

The sun is warm and bright,
forcing the darknesss into retreat.
The moon's shadows signals our defeat.
Fighting,
"we cannot be."

The day for me to leave is coming,
and more time is spent with the moon.
The sun no more, no time to swoon.
Accepting,
"we cannont be."

He is the sun and the moon,
oil and water, never mixing.
Two elements beyond coexisting.
Deciding,
"to be."

He is my sun and my moon,
my inconceivable truth.