Tis not a dying sun...

-------------------------

I sit here, watching as the scarlet sun fades beneath the dim horizon,
Yea, that same sun which other poets have described as dying!
Yet to speak of such is heresy, for the sun is not dead, but merely lying in slumber,
Laying its head upon the crest of the Earth and the heart of Humanity

And did Solomon so set to divide a single child,
As have we when we watch the day transform into the night?
Lost in the loss of the light and the expanse of the pitch-black darkness,
Is that the night bears its own birth of a kind much similar to the day's.
A new beginning for many, in what is perceived as an end
That which is so obscurely hidden under the sun's encompassing glare
Becomes obvious when presented with the moon's solemn stare.

Sleep, oh, sleep, sweet sun!
And dream of the day, of the trees and the plants;
The night will bear its solemn task well,
And in darkness show what light couldn't tell.

Maybe it is human nature to fear that which we do not know
But I propose another reason for our flight,
That in dividing the brilliant day from the corruptible night,
We have created a monster of that which is simply devoid of light.
Should darkness truly disguise all that we fear, in a black shroud?
Or is it simply waiting to unravel the beauty that's yet to be found?

So sleep, sleep ever on, sweet sun,
And we shan't lament your simple passing
For night or day, true light or true grey
We will be here,
As ever,
Content in the lasting shade,
Of nature's simple countenance.

------------