At dawn, the horizon which kept it safe from darkness let’s it out,
let’s it live for another 15 hours, allows it to guide the lost beaded sunflower.
At noon,it turns pale enough,scared of going back into the tiny place,
where it has to wait another night to win the race.
Before dusk it fights with time,struggling for victory,begging for another hour to shine
however it turns crimson at defeat, as the lights dotted start to glow on the streets
the sky too starts to loose its heat.
At dusk it takes another minute to flare and sets,before the stars begin to appear,
And just like this the Sun shines for the day
and then sleeps in the pockets where meadows lay.
The moon and stars get exposed,the ones that confided to the fiery globe,
It burns every 15 days and turns to ember,then rises again, When it abstains itself from the sky for a day,by the people it is remembered.
It is cold,cold as ice,it wanes when the sky takes a bite,
Then waxes,the way icing is poured on a turkish delight.
The dandelions cover themselves at night,fearing the moon’s frosty smile,
It glistens the pastures with dew who hold a wish to spread another mile.
Though the moon isn’t that of a misery,It tries to race with the stars on who can reach the land first, the moon is ahead of them all but this doesnt seem to quench it’s thirst.
At dawn,it fights with time,another hour to shine,it claims is suffice,
However time wins again and it’s turn for the sun to rise.
And just like that the moon glows every night,then hides below the white blankets of the sky and goes out of sight.
Just like that the cycle goes on,the moon and the sun know their turn,the stars wait for them to appear, they know when it’s time for each to burn and each to disappear.
the wanderer and the resident
(self painted)
Scintillating Scrawls 