Does the sun weep when the moon makes her appearance?
I do wonder
Is he envious of her time spent with the earth?
Does he wish to engulf her in his bright light, until she is nothing?
When the nocturnal creatures crawl out of their dark burrows
Eyes reflecting the light of the moon
Does the sun exclaim, in a fit of frustration, “that is my doing; that is me”?
For I know he wishes that night never falls onto this planet
That we should spend all our days in his scorching flames
Until the ground sets ablaze and we shield our aching eyes
All a product of a deep-rooted envy more powerful than any ray of light
Yet the sun knows this is only wishful thinking
So each night he will have no choice but to creep across the horizon until the sky bleeds in reds and oranges
Hesitate, until he is but a small speck and the stars have begun to glow in that creeping veil of inky darkness
Finally receding, finally admitting another defeat
Awaiting a new day