The ocean was alive the day the sun died.
Nobody saw its white beauty.
Nobody felt the cool of its break on their skin.
Eerie silence rose into the sky the day the sun died.
Pain instead of joy, broken instead of fixed;
life, never to shine again.
The sun was dead.
Still the ocean was perfect.
What if
The darling moon
Fell in love
With the Sun?
Would two lights shine from the black?
Or
Would day-time drift
the lovers into the open
blue
Where they would shine
A single ray
on a hill by the sea.
Never too bright, never
a smudge of char on the
cracked stone.
And
What if
The darling Sun
Fell in love
With
The
Moon?
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