her orb's silver beams
shall regale the sky's dark realm
a moon new in phase

with glints so bright
this morn the sun's happy orb did rise
with glints so bright
bedazzling of a shining light
was to an eye fine in surprise
its radiance nice to apprise
with glints so bright

Time stops when your losing sun.
The days always shorter than the night.
You can hear the hands pushing against the present like children on the 25th, inside a little gift hits the box like tick... tock.
That sound stretches slowly to hide the silence.
A reassurance that your reality is what it is.
A minute takes a minute, a week feels infinite, a month feels like twelve,  you've lost yourself in a year.
Time stops when your losing sun.
A storm can last four seasons.
Darkness can make you feel like an ant.
An ant in a storm. hmmm.
An environment where a drop of water can drown you, trap you in a gravitational orb with practically no way out.
If air could be happiness your drowning.
Your view is getting darker as it all fades to black.
your last gasp in vain as reality fills your lungs.
Then darkness.
Your sun has set.
The light is gone.
Time.... stops.

The orb of night is pulchritudinous tonight,
And not a breath of life in this house seems to notice.
My eyes on you, Your eyes on me,
Viciously music trapped between the bed and windows;
Innocents tiptoeing along the hall,
And us.
While walking towards your car,
I suppose inferring that:
The orb is pulchritudinous tonight,
But what I decry is meant for self-revelation or not at all.
You look at me and smile.
I will always admire the way you glow is so generous to,
Those unaware of the way she fills my eyes.
A delicate modesty.
You open my door,
And I am thankful;
But can’t help wishing to be with someone who notices that,
The Orb is Pulchritudinous tonight.

those who worshiped the sun
were right to honor majesty and power
to seek what truly gives us life
but the sorrow of their song
what they deemed as divine
was one small part of one fiery word
that blew out from the lips and mind
of the True Consuming Fire
a tragedy
staring at that little orb
did blind them to the Truth

The bayed back feeling that once was you
Boiling down the ethereal , in differences
I cross the twi's lights knowing I will be
here . . . for a thousand years

This is astound  , no reason is clear
Where the smell of grass comes to pass
You remember a kiss that won't disappear
. . . . . . beyond a thousand years

Tuesday . . . dragging the clouds away
Hearing the voices that were never there
Telling me to hang my ethereals out to dry
It may take a thousand years

Cold hearted orb dressed in white satin
embrace the shadows you cast across
Tell all the Knights lacking they cannot win
Not in a thousand years

Sun burns away the day, Night is born,
Wrapped in blankets of clouds, handsome lad.

Tell the stars that I am jealous of the moon,
For with the dying of each new day;

Crystal orb with swaddling of mist and light,
Nursemaid that she is-

She attends, O precious delight,
The infant Night!