The Sun

A word, a pain,
A moment of despair;
Laughable.

Pent up frustrations
Emerging to the surface.
Love locked in deepest agony

Peace blows its white horn
And a silence grips the land.

Berry red, Ivory towers
Longing for the last embrace
of the sun.
Summaries of miseries,

The peasants summarize
And till the land till their backs break
Longing for the last embrace
Of the dying sun.

A bird is all that remains
Of a cry that was heard
In the Beginning.

A ball of white,
emerging from within
To soak all
In its loving embrace.