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(a poem)

I watch the sun slowly illuminate the sky

Soft, gentle brushstrokes

He recognizes the beauty in the process -

not focused on the finished product

In this moment,

not calculating his worth

with equations

nor justifying the fruits of his labors

No quantifying

No numbers

No tracking of progress

Just being


Bowing to the organic unfolding of time

His canvas slowly shifts from dark to light

The artist unaffected by the busy world

that surrounds

Answering to no one,

a trusted servant to the Universe’s flow

Gentle winds breeze by

and the sun remains unfazed

Quietly demonstrative

Quietly powerful

He greets the planets

as their shining paths cross

Venus lingering, opposite her brother Jupiter -

not quite ready to hide for the day

A radiant pink begins to gently

outline the soft edges of clouds

Subtle changes take time

Small steps, incremental

The sun is patient as he colors the sky

in order to wholeheartedly

shine for the world

A statement of


A statement of


The world’s first beacon of light

Charming his audience

Day after day

Emanating rays of hope

A young girl squints

Overwhelmed by the sun’s strength

Soothed by his compassion

Pacified by his modesty

He is both warrior and angel

Effervescent, everlasting

Yet his phases so short and ephemeral

The same routine every morning,

but every time a wildly unique expression


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