Neither does the sun rise
To wake the dreaming sleeper
And bring the warmth of day
To a cold night
Nor does the sun set
To rest the wearied traveller
And bid away the torments
Of a harsh day
It merely remains pseudo stagnant
An artful centerpiece
Changing the length of shadows
And creeping in the change of seasons
It pulls us as we drift
Across a vast unexplained universe
Indefinite in length, breadth, width,
And time
Neither does the sun rise
Nor does the sun set
It simply
Burns.
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