The Sun has been buried
This glow is but cold light
Older than any star
The Sun is under the Earth
And the Moon is invisible in the sky
A circle of darkness on the dark
We are the funeral of the Sun
A song of flesh and sunbeams
Alcohol and food and black clothes
Rooms temporarily full of people
Soon to be empty but for dirt and air
The Sun is sensual in the ground
Our sleepless passion
Soothes no urges or needs
Vanishing in a flicker
Like ghosts whose stories
Are no longer told to children
But die inside old minds
I see the buried Sun
Trembling as it sinks into dark
Like wood among embers
Turning black and fragile
The night is heavy and silent
A rock on top of disturbed ground
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment