The Sun is in love with the Moon.
How on Earth could such a thing be true?
The Sun is fieriest passion ignited in the radiance
Of the Words of Creation in perpetual motion.
But the Moon is but a watcher, timing the tides.
Should one so magnificent to be near is to die in bliss,
The closest thing to God this side of heaven’s void,
Adore that weighted stone thrown carelessly into the black?
But you must watch them in an eclipse.
In the cold shadows of the darkness between them,
They draw together, energy shared in harmonic ecstasy
As timeless as the Father, and as natural as the Mother
And with truth and desire as ready as the Lover.
In an instant and an eternity, the Sun strikes in love
The Moon recedes in the same. Their dance is endless,
Too beautiful to bear, gifting blindness at the sight.
Oh to have a Sun to eclipse thee – what a treasure that would be. SK