Dying Suns


A cradle of light

Born out of sight

Glowing a thousand colors

Waiting to be fed

Waiting for more

Waiting to shine


The waves are crashing


The cradles of light

Flickering out of sight

Sputtering and crackling

As the water washes them out


A hundred colors


A dozen colors


They’re losing colors

A few cradles of light

Flickering out of sight


The water rises

The storm thickens…

Feed the light…

And maybe tomorrow won’t be night.


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