The Sun was dense with crimson;
Whose every fine line knew pain and love combined;
All the cracks and burrows, scars from time;
Whence the clouds would allow the rays to sneak.
The obscenely powerful and a might unmatched;
The Sun gave in with no fight, nor wailing, not even a gasp;
As He drowned little by little, bit by bit;
He’d hold his breath, hold his strength,
as it was love he’d emit.
The bees, the birds, all residents of nature;
The newly hatched egg, the dawdling fawn;
Making all of creation mourn, until the first light of dawn.
Only fools would romanticise the moon.
Flaunting beauty merely borrowed;
As the Son drowned for a while; only to be resurrected in the morrow;
Love came alive; smelled of blood and vinegar wine;
Bleeding over us the gift of an eternal renewed life.
