TRANSITION

The sun holding stubbornly
To the even sky
Like an unwanted regime
That wants to preside for
life.
The big round gold
Is spectacular to behold
After his compulsory
Race to the west
Where he pauses to rest
 
And the moon is up in the east
Waiting with untold calm and ease
Without any word,
For the sun to leave
 
The sun is a monarch
Majestic and bold
In a sudden slowness
He changes his gold
Into a mighty orange
Which again changes
Into blood
And then to fire.
 
Blood and fire
A transitional quagmire
A stubborn display of authority
And the quiet moon
Is watching calmly.
 
Then like in submission
To an unwritten legislation
The big fiery ball burst open
With a sudden indignation
Emptying into the cloudy flood
And spilling bright red blood
All over the western sky.
Oh how the mighty die.