The Burning Sun

The sun blazes down,
Like a brightly burning fire.
It surrounds every tree,
Every bird,
Every person,
Every little thing.
It is a lit match,
And we are the ants.
We run for cover,
Cover from the blinding light in the sky.
We never find it.
The sunlight seeps into every crevice,
It reflects and creates art.
But if light creates such beauty,
It must also create such darkness.
On every sunny day,
A shadow lurks; loitering around the corner.
On every lit path,
A deep and dark forest is waiting.
Don’t you understand?
To get the light parts,
You need the darkness too.

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