Monday, November 2, 2009

Untitled

What brings grey clouds
Against clear blue skies?
It must be some form of trickery
The same trickery
That blots out the sun at twilight.
What sin has the sun committed
That is must be removed until the morning?
Surely they are no greater
Than my own.
Must it share with the moon?
Could they not inhabit the same sky?
Is the moon jealous
Of the suns radiance?
I see the moon ever changing
But the sun holds fast.
How queer it is
That the light is always there
Just sometimes hidden.

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