Your Halo, Worn Proud

Sun-singer,
sing your song
into the ether.

You are not wrong,
nor I, either,
we both wish to belong
among the stars,
distant glimpses, afar,
of hidden wonders,
shared, or alone,
discovered by the
Sun-seekers.

Raging star, or the
still ink of the
blackest scar, take
my hand and join me,
far above,
in the ether.

The dimmest glint
from Sol, Old Sun,
will reach us here
in this place, anon.

When his warmth
touches your brow,
the ice crystals will glow,
your halo, worn proud.

I can see it clearly now.

I will join you in the blackness
and we will dance
until Old Sun

burns out.


©️ CG Tenpenny, 2018.

Talk to me.

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