Pinching the Sun
This morning I woke up and pinched the sun
Between fingers, the ocular assault ended
Or began as I commanded, how fun
I thought as the Iridescent rays rescinded
Or ascended in rainbow hues.
I could hold glory, perhaps skies so blue
Painted on infinite canvas, my eyes deceived
By believing in their own power but
I wasn't convinced and walked outside, grieved
To find the orange God was gone.
Where he went I mused and mused to chagrin
Of Heaven I perused, page after page of celestial book
Where beams of pure love would shine down on me
Never finding, never finding this hidden brook;
Golden God of the sky, I will never begin.
Copyright © Tim B | Year Posted 2014
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