At the end of the day,
The sun, alone in the faded sky,
Surrenders its radiant power,
Its warm eye,
Its life force,
To its bright-eyed sister,
To be overshadowed
By the purity of her gilded kingdom;
The night stars,
The lucid light,
The brilliant glow
Of a far-away frontier.
She was a sorceress, a seductress, a night nymph,
This mystical morphemic moon,
Framed by the dark sky,
The white light of scattered stars.
Oh how he hated his nighttime rival, his own sibling;
He hated the pale glow of her soothing face,
That ever-changing face,
Its light soft, yet strong enough to inspire
Poets and lovers of all sorts.
He could hear her honeyed voice as night approached,
Like a lullaby it sang out to him with undisguised glee,
“Behold the glory of my light!”
And so, with a jealous eye,
He settled into his dark, cold, wretched spot,
Alone, but only for the night,
Knowing he would reign again in tomorrow’s light.
She watched the faded flickering light turn into shadows,
Spent and gloryless,
Succumb to God’s universe,
To nature, to its proper end,
As darkness overcame it.
Finally, it was her turn to shine,
To take shape, to be alone in the black sky that was her stage,
The universe now to be humbled by her glory.
Her brother got too much attention she thought;
Too much depended on his fickle will,
His power, his whim of heart.
“Shall I come out today? she would hear him ask scornfully,
“Or play peek-a-boo once again behind the gray clouds?”
Games to illustrate his power, she thought,
Before illuminating the sky with his pulsating, vibrating rays of light,
His solar smile.
Oh, he was a temperamental one,
No routine, he could come out and play,
Always at will, on center stage,
Bright and beaming like majesty,
So grand, so powerful none was privileged
To even look him directly in the eye;
Always the arrogant big brother,
Stealing her day.
Lisa G. Froman
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