The Way of the Sun

I see, in the miraculous way

the sun makes her sure descent,

 

my own place in this world.

The sun gives us this gift

 

In her sure movements, regal

and decisive, sweeping across

 

lands in constant invitation.

I stand and watch the sky

 

sigh plush and heavy at dusk,

heaving at the last letting go

 

in tufts of orange, grey and pink.

I, too, sigh, with the weight of

 

the undone, my heart hammering

in her caged dome, unlike the

 

sun before me, a fireball ablaze

with the potential for all that is,

 

offering me, even now, her golden

embrace. I stand before the mountain,

 

shaking at the wonder of all the ways

in which I am here, and not here, and

 

I take it. The sun’s persistent rotations

that allow my fluttering, fledgling

 

trajectories. Warning of the dark,

soothing, always again, with her light.

 

– TS