Lines of oranges & reds & pinks
crack the blackened-skies
to bring us
another day
of existence.
As the warmth
of the morning star
permeates the cold,
she makes her arrival
in grand fashion
& brings us light.

The beautiful burning-disc
will make her rounds
yet again,
hurling supersonic
in light-year distances
not in kilometers
nor even miles,
those feeble attempts
by human-minds
to quantify the sacred.

For we cannot
be measured,
we are sacred
beyond all galaxies.
And as she continues,
continues to rise
into the heavens above,
my eyes burn
with the tears
of endless oceans,
a witness to her simple love.