Question the Sun

I say to the dying sun in flight.
"why do you rise on the morrow?"
and upon the wind the son of ages whispers...

I rise to chase the moon!
clever she,
that alludes me so well.
the pursuit since times forgotten
for one kiss of her silvered breath.

I will throw myself to the edges
of oceans embraced in winter deep
to but gaze her light grow shining.

For one taste of her luminous wine
sacred she,
I will follow her course
to the ends of time eternal.
I rise oh my son, for her.

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