The setting sun is a lonely one...
Burning thru the sky til his work is done...
No friends, no love, no Love, no fun...
Has his water in the ocean, but no air in his lungs.
This is a day of bright sun rays.
But this will soon change as the light decays.
After the meridian divides the day...
And the moon precipitates nocturnal rays...
When sparkling stars come out to play...
From greater galaxies far away...
This is the hour of lucid lineage.
But soon enough the sun will rise.
Nov 27, 2009
Nov 27, 2009 at 11:14 AM UTC
The setting sun is a lonely one...
Burning thru the sky til his work is done...
No friends, no love, no Love, no fun...
Has his water in the ocean, but no air in his lungs.
This is a day of bright sun rays.
But this will soon change as the light decays.
After the meridian divides the day...
And the moon precipitates nocturnal rays...
When sparkling stars come out to play...
From greater galaxies far away...
This is the hour of lucid lineage.
But soon enough the sun will rise.
Request permission to use this poem