Bastard Sun

Life is a bastard son, prodding the fertile horizon poking into places tender, tearing the expanse of dawn he taunts, rude and bellicose, so full of himself spewing into the weakest streams, a wet dream. With platitudes he prances, son of a fearsome father promising eternity, singing a lover's song of praise. Light bearer, holder of the golden scalpel, night cutter leaving glare where softness once held sway. May the abyss, the gentle dark, the yin forgive you..son. From the pear-shaped loins of sister Eve, you have burst washed in the waters of she, a caul of white adorned, pray, stay your hand, do not bludgeon your better half. Existence, endless, fleeting, meld and join this randy pair for universes swing between this bastard and his dreams. Dedicated to my muse Brenda Atry please read her "Black Diamond Night"