The rising sun’s splendour comes from the night,
From shadows lingering, soft and long.
Dusk teaches loss before dawn teaches hope,
And morning rises knowing it won’t belong.
He watches the morning sun rise in silence,
Already aware of its leaving.
The golden orange sky makes no promise of staying,
Only the habit of returning.
Life’s worth is measured by its fragile end,
As breath finds meaning knowing it will cease.
Death does not rush life away;
She waits, patient and true.
Success — she is endearing because failure lurks.
Every ascent remembers the fall.
What stands tall has learned to break,
And still answers when called.
Water tastes sweetest to a parched tongue,
As love is precious to a tired heart.
Relief comes only after longing for so long,
And gratitude the body learns by enduring quietly.
Love — she is beautiful because nothing else will do.
Without her, his world feels empty and thin.
She breaks, she leaves, she changes form,
Yet asks to be believed in again.
When the sun sets, and the moon reigns in its place,
The music of his wings falls silent.
Joy fades, but does not disappear,
For the morning bird waits — to sing again.
