Rising Sun

How could I ever escape from

the sun when

I find myself living where it sets

and running toward where it rises?

 

How am I ever supposed to hide

from the ceasless calling,

the siren's song

that makes me long to be a million miles away.

 

How could I ever escape

from the sun when

I find myself living where it sets

and running toward where it rises?

 

I grow weary,

don't you see?

I am running to where I feel I am meant to be:

That land across the sea;

That land that witnesses the rising of the sun.

 

I am not sleeping

because, you see, I am never not seeing

that yellow ball of fire that burns so bright in the sky

but I know will burn red in the mornings at dawn

when I witness each rising of the sun.

 

How could I ever escape from 

the sun when

I find myself living where it sets

and running toward where it rises?

 

All I want is to witness it: the

Rising Sun.

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