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.