At twilight, past a glistening day
he is going back home
slowly shattering behind
the steep crests of the mountain,
his scorching blaze
piercing through the woods
leached out moisture
till the very last drop,
breaking through the mists
and fogs and clouds
he made a new way
through no one’s allowed,
now past his swing
from the east to the west
he’s shuffling back stilly
to let the moon annex,
underneath the dark
Is he gaining strength?
to rise up with the Aurora
or is he all drained?
the time he was down
few posited, he resigned
from the arduous courage
he always had shone,
but, without a word
he is back to the blue
to let the horizons meet
to let it be a new dawn,
he is the covert ardor
of every dark night….
he is the ace of spheres
“the brightest star”