There on the threshold of the dawn
when lights of night of had been outdone.
His chariot was slowly drawn
before the Mistress of the Sun.
Her sable breath was caught by day
locked in his snare, their paths aligned
Diluting Earth in passion’s haze
Her soul absorbed, her love entwined.
From out within that Eastern sky
a flirting warrior touched her face
and lured a blush from maiden shy,
a russet moon with fawning grace.
She paused a moment, heart undone
to drink the charm of Master Sun.
The twilight never warmed as much
as naked fire in hungry eyes
while basking in his ardent touch;
each new facet a sweet surprise;
the way his light made her fall blind
the way his warmth stayed on her mind.
But Ah! The game, the Missing Game
brief moments claimed while on the run
her duty calls, his life’s campaign
enlists the Mistress of the Sun.
His light reflected dusk to dawn
her own desire she could not find.
In each eclipse, his shield was drawn
so quick to hide, leave her behind.
His meager offerings of light
so often waxed and waned again,
and yet her thinning heart held tight
to fairy tales of princely men.
A damning war of heart begun
to love or hate her Master Sun.
She gave so much, he never took
and took so much she never gave,
his victor’s eyes too oft forsook
the feelings that she longed to save.
A failure’s guilt, a bitter rind,
a gray, bald husk o’er heartsick mind
A farewell kiss from parting lips
his tantric palms on prizes won.
From wells of eventide he sips
then leaves the Mistress of the Sun.
A mistress of the light no more
‘twas not her place in day to shine
in spite she takes what he affords
to taunt him with what he’d declined.