"The Sun has set,
or so it seems,"
is what the Ocean said,
"but truer yet,
is that She dreams
she is the Moon instead."

Sing the sun to setting
Sing to set her free
Sing to her transforming
beneath the Western sea:
her gold now turns to silver
...a lunar legacy...
a stellar toss of faery dust:
...a star-borne alchemy...

the azure sky is wrinkled
with tendril etchings of the sun
while the heavens, sprinkled light
with melting stars, conceal the night
in pastel harmony...
behold, Earth,
the very soul of God
has caught you napping.

See the sun
in a silver haze of clouds
become a sigil glowing no less bright
'cept to the one
whose mind will not allow
belief beyond the Coming of the Night.