Sun's Slave

Wait for your ascent to the sky each morn

I lean toward you; all of me worship your blazing rays—

That creeping through my yellow petals.

Your beam is my holy direction, a guided of

paradise — as an obedient slave, I follow.

My worshipped sun!

Your blaze is a prayer that purifies and eases the soul.

Your sunlight is a golden hair unfurled on a blue pillow.

Your rolling shape is like glowing pearls scattered on a peaceful beach.

Miles and miles separate me from touching your grace;

Though I know if I reach, I will dissolve in your flames.

When your lamp is off and the sound of the singing birds disappear,

I sob in my sorrow and fear your departure.

Your companion now wearing a black gown, spreads its gloominess on my yellowish mound.

My face wilts down to the ground,

My stem shakes in terror.

Your Majesty! All I need now is a shaft of your beam,

Burst through this chasm;

To irrigate my roots and stroke my petals.