The Sun

Even though everything we see is lit by it
as we deliver ourselves to the world
or forget to, in all of the commotion
of our to-and-fro lives…

We don’t bother to look up.

We don’t bother to watch it burn
or listen for its song on its way up.

There is little interest in the sun
unless it is dying or in birth.

The red of beginnings and endings
forever drawing us, bringing us to pause…
at least for a moment.

And when evening comes
and everyone walks through the darkening blue of the dusk
all of us drown together
all of us are drawn together in the loneliness of our drowning
walking quickly to escape
what we don’t know.

Our hands on our faces as if in silent scream.
Our eyes darting back and forth with their whites showing like wild horses.

When the sun disappears,
we are left to our own lights
and the shadows they cast.

With everything neglected in ourselves rising to the surface
as we step on the gas to get to saloons
hoping to drown our drowning with the factory spirits
that are shipped in huge containers
and sold in units as the currency of night.

We don’t know why night is so painful
or why the sun is our savior…

Waiting for the mountains to catch fire in first light
and for everything to become unified as a single vision.

All of the surfaces accounted for.
All of the objects in their proper places.

Solid and sure of themselves
like a good argument.