The Sun

The sun doesn’t show his despair

Rather he burns brighter and blinds the eye who dares see him in his reality.

The ethereal rays, angelic and bright

Carry shades of pain hidden among the brazen white light.

That warm glow, hopeful and seemingly strong 

Gently masks the troubled hue from laying upon distant sanguine eyes.

The comforting predictability of his nature 

Innocently forges illusions of efficacy, balance and composure.

Eyes are always gazing, appearances need to be kept.

But nevertheless, Those rare melancholic dusk’s and delicate feeble dawn’s 

are hints, if nothing more. 

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