RISING SUN

RISING SUN

The song is sung, the evening done,
the flame burns low, the race is run.
Life passes by in wispy dreams,
golden threads from silken reams.

Slipping from fingers nerveless, cold,
Too tired to try, too heavy, to hold.
Slick and heavy they fall like pearly tears
Snaking into the endless vortex,
of human fears.

One by one, swirling into a fathomless sea,
Of darkness, death and insanity.
No hopes, no expectations from life,
no more sorrow, no longer the strife.

The battles over the war is won
as darkness covers the rising sun.
Spirits ride the howling winds,
flying wild and free,
the sky, it burns, look it burns,
with such intensity.

Nature rocks,
heaves and spews its molten rage,
The story of heavens,
written on a timeless page.

Oceans boil, fermenting,
water-throwing waves of foam,
Headless horsemen, mounted,
over thundering hoofs roam.

The flute of Pan is tender,
its piping sounds are clear,
While the Titans rage and kill above,
the hand of God is near.

Gentle sleep closes weary eyes,
the sleep of death is deep,
Darkness surrounds the hungry soul,
as towards the light it leaps.

One by one soundlessly they slip,
till the last cord is gone,
The sun is set the moon it wanes
and soon comes in the morn.

The body is cold its turning blue
the blood, it no longer flows,
"Too soon," it calls, "Too soon," it cries,
when the breath of life it goes.

The shimmer of the parting cord
streaks gleaming in the past,
A flash of gold, a sweep of silk
the prophecy seen at last.

Neither for gold nor for fame,
for love the vision done,
A new beginning, another birth,
awaits the rising sun.

~Sujata~

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