Dark of the Sun

Dark of the sun shine your black light down on me, from the pinhole spot of anti-matter centred at your core. That little speck of dirt, a cosmic shrine of heresy, absorbs the way the world seems flatter, in any time of war. Dark of the sun, cast your ice-cream cone of night like a spear from the heart of chaos lancing to the ground. How the microbes hone ultra-violet rays of guided flight to stake the flesh and bone of Eros and any lover found. Dark of the sun, fire your flip-side heart of plague, bounce radium from the ocean glass, the blue galactic eye. And would the rage subside, if love and life were less than vague and crept from out the deep crevasse to shine before they die?