It’s been seventy-two and a half hours,

And the sun hasn’t come out.

The people all around are perplexed.

“Why’s there darkness all around?”

Another asks if anything was wrong;

While some plead to the elders

To inform them of what happened and

To give the poor some shelter.

For the land was too cold, dark and broken.

No warmth had entered the earth.

No energy, no, not even light

From the stars that gave them birth.

No happiness, laughter, excitement too.

No one’s dancing. No music.

Nothing that gave them joy had existed,

Just Apollo’s dead lyric.

Some knelt over and gave solemn prayers

To the gods who forsake them.

Others rallied for they new that this

Was the Sun God’s requiem.

The remaining citizens did nothing

For they knew not what to do.

Part of them didn’t believe in gods,

The other half simply knew

They had no authority and power

Over the vast universe.

They understood that they had no right

To create another verse.

It’s been seventy-two and a half hours,

And the sun didn’t come out.

I guess the sun did not realize

What its purpose is about.

Photo by: niji707

You’re prepossessing, very alluring. Amazingly beautiful in many ways. 

I really don’t know what else to say. The words I speak are out of place.

You’re stunning, quite bewitching. Incredibly easy on the eyes. 

Elegantly well poised paired with a shy guise.

You’re the first star in the night where I find my true wish.

You’re the pond so beautifully marked with a dozen Koi Fish.

You’re uniquely defined as special in my heart.

God knows that you are his greatest work of art.