Sun Slave
I lay on sweet grass as blades bend to bring me back to the beginning.
Leaves hum crisp tunes of summer and young streams babble innocently.
It is only when the sun grows sorrowful and lays to rest that I remember.
The arms of trees can no longer hold me,
And the bubbling brook grows anciently heavy in the blinding darkness.
It is in the vast nothing that everything resides.
The black veil that rests upon eyelids is the ink that illustrates what light cannot see.
Stars wait in line as hushed school girls out of bed, quiet but precise.
The heavens giggle from their throne as the pen is passed
And constellations connect dots.
An earthly creation by the gods sits on mountain tops.
Nearly complete, as fingers take hold of beaches so that beams may glide through the morning sky.
A festival, unfit for immortal starlets, treks to far fields.
Warmth kisses my cheek and promises to never leave.
A promise that will be broken tonight, in the horrific starlight.