The sun sets

and rises in the east.

The moon sets

and rises in the west.

A constant chase

where the moon loves the sun.

They can never touch

or even see the other.

So when the sun sets

and the moon rises.

They cry their love-struck tears.

Sun dips evening’s essence

In her honey colored light

Amber effervescence

Draws long shadows ’fore the night

Resting on a bed of waves

Tide‘s sonnets sing to sleep

Her pulse slows and perfusion fades

Death nears as colors weep

Star’s lost luminescence;

Sky’s curtain’s drawn to veil:

Her rising, Dawn of Radiance —

Eternally, she dwells

The mischevious wink of the sun

hiding behind the clouds

blinds me for a short moment

Then, it begins to fall

Slowly, but surely

The moon is blanketing it with a great eiderdown of darkness

Like a loving mother tucking in her child

At first, the sun resists

Reluctantly splaying out the last sunbeams out at the colourful clouds

But it slowly falls asleep,

Snores becoming the soft breezy zephyr tickling my face

Satisfied, the moon beams at me triumphantly and its smile

Lights up the sky with twinkling stars

The sun sets on me

and rises there

where you are;

in that moment,

when we are both awake

starting

or ending

our day,

the phone rings

and I am happy:

the sun in my sky

is bright again

though it is the moon

outside my window.

So, it’s actually not that interesting. I’m the guy in charge of making the sun “set”, literally all I do is push a button in my office that starts the countdown. I’m in charge of the eastern hemisphere, my friend Diane does the west, and we have relief shifts to cover changes in the seasons. I’m actually just an intern here, this is one of the most boring parts of the job followed by Ocean Tides and Flight Cancellations (yeah that’s us). I’ve been at this desk now for 865 years, just watching the sun go up and down, I’ve requested a transfer to Infectious Diseases a few times but it’s been denied; I’m still pretty green apparently. This job does have its perks, my favorite part though is watching you guys when the sun starts going down. Most of you are too busy driving home or cooking dinner to even notice it, I guess that’s understandable though, it is super boring. Some of you, I’ve noticed, tend to stop for prolonged periods and just stare at the sun as I set it. Like for a moment, life slows down and you are reminded all of a sudden of the endless passage of time. Some people value it more than others, I’ve seen painters depict my work for generations, mimicking the spectrum of fleeting lights in the sky with their brushstrokes and pens. I’ve heard songs exclaiming the “beauty” or “intensity” of this moment of the day. I’ve seen people fall in love, cry in dispair, some even just sit reflectively exploring the inner universe of their minds. The sun brings something out in you, some kind of deep-seated longing for adventure. I can remember a time when all you had was the sun to depend on for time, directions, even livelyhood; the job felt a lot more important back then. But It’s like you guys still worship this thing even though you know that it’s just a star, one of billions just like it. That’s really what I admire about humans, they can take even the most boring, scientifically reduced and overly explained phenomena and attach significant emotional expression to it. It really makes the job feel worth it.

So, I know what happens when the sun sets. Humans watch it.

this word is what I thought of

i tried to write a poem

something to capture the endless

and somehow instantaneous

beautiful moment of evanescence

(which is a fancy way to describe something that fades quickly)

the way a sun sets and sighs

the softened lips after goodbyes

the painful way a sleeping dies

that's what I want to see

it's deeper than you've dreamt

so powerfully unkempt

alas it's state is tempt

a rose to that of three

white and yellow too

a red to follow you

and black alive it grew

as dark as nights rapport

the cheeks are named by one

"those rosie cheeks" by some

a gardened little one

the earliest of four

this shade is mine to clasp

I know it shouldn't last

I'll place in tempered glass

cut stem, as life, is stripped

for death will take it's place

an order as we trace

it's life to help us face

our own as end is gripped

and when the roses pass

I'll lend within me mass

to mourn such gentle lass

as nature has its peak

that softens every face

though flower is replaced

how can we but retrace

it's countenance to speak

#rose #poetry #poetrycontest