On fleet-footed wings flees the singular night—
hail Sun, a faith found by the dawn-laden light—
as ochre lyre breathes out songs of life, it
takes chromatic flight.
A golden beam seeks, and as it finds, transforms—
at tender glance, multiplicities adorn—
teeming and glimmering, creation adores
all to be reborn.
But into high noon does a lover dare gaze—
craving a story, blinding splendor and blaze—
did Apollo weep sage as Icarus razed
through the barren haze?
Yet a creature still longs to see and be seen—
a yearning to bask in evening amber gleam—
a gentle coaxing beckons all to heed, what
strange attraction deems.
And even the Sun, in an amethyst light—
grape seed, half twist against eternity’s might—
with no triumphs over this life—goes gentle
into that good night.