The Sun, ever more late
each day from our meeting
I've chiselled into my mind,
now up and rising higher.
This run-of-the-mill star,
one of tens of billions in our spiral,
allows me to bask like a reptile
in its rays yet. It's not
the warmth, it's the light,
it's the light that matters,
it's the light that one feels
entering the flesh, coursing
in the veins, flowing
into the brain, letting
each though to float
in a golden embrace.
O Sun, it's your light
that matters. Let the coming
winter be one of cold light
and I fill reward you
with songs like in the days
of old when you were
Ra and Sol Invictus.
29.09.2025
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