the runes

Sometimes I think about the sun
how it can be such a rune;
Smiling like a griefless hero
while giving her sit to the moon.

From the mountains of the Easter lands
shining as she comes out.
No matter if the heavy clouds;
cover her face till her sets out.

Standing strong even at night
or all day the rain wets wings' dove;
No matter to whom it will be sent
she is there to give her love.

May be she knows the runes about
how the stars twinkle at nights;
Flocks of angels flapping their wings?
Might it be the cause of lights?

May be she knows the runes about
where God's house is at heights?
Or knows the time world comes to end
when the men give up their fights.