By Alex Padina
I looked into the eye of the sun
only because it was half hidden in the clouds,
cloaked in dusk’s evanescence.
‘Tis odd that this partial darkness
allows the contemplation of light
– I pondered.
A sharply edged sphere
flickering between molten silver
and black onyx,
like the pupil of an entity
of astral proportions,
meeting my gaze
from its charcoal stained
celestial canvas.
And I, mortal, beg calmly
to this deity, without caution.
In the scorching heat of day
It has retreated
behind reason’s doors
and with my pleas unsettled
I wonder still:
Am I unheard
or am I ignored?