Categories
Poetry

The Sun

She shines quietly for peace

as the rain falls all around.

She watches the storms rage

and knows her role

is still

to be as she was born to be.

The sun.

Always the sun,

no matter the dark clouds;

no matter the storms that rage.

Sometimes her touch is soft.

Other times, she is fierce enough

to burn new eyes into the fabric

of all the things.

But always she remains the sun.

Always she remains the sun.

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