The older I become;
I find darkness surrounds
to cool my soul. That sensation
of the warming heat...
It is bright, yes it is...
bright , yellow, lovely, sun...
Yet, it scorches darkness deep
to the piercing of my core.
When one attracts the other.
There is but disbelief.
The circus tricks of an atmosphere.
And all I have is shaky faith.
The power to walk neck up.
The will to run through the storm.
There,  it leaves a misty void.
As I move closer and hold my stand.
It is bright, yes it is..
bright, yellow, lovely, sun...
but I am cool from the moon sensation
I can withstand the burn.