On the Eve of the Longest Day

 

Light is the progenitor of dark –
the vast contrasting blast
from which the spasms
from which we erupt embark.

You fell in love with night

six months ago and you will fall
in love with night again
six months from now, but now

you feel the ardor of the Star

you call the Sun. New gods
have won:  revise your vow. Strip
naked in the brightness. Bow.









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