The Sun

The burning lamp that never runs out of oil, The burning fire that never burns, anything so seriously like a bush fire. The ageless fire that never dies out, but shines so brightly up in the sky. It has seen it all, Evolution, our forefathers, famine and wars. It has seen it all, but will not tell. Knows it all but will not say. If it were a camera, It would have given scientists answers to all mysteries. If it could speak, would have whispered a few solutions to mother earth, about it earthly problems of disease, famine, war and death. It is just a burning fire from a distance, that is neither our enemy nor friend, but knows it duties. It rises noiselessly from its rising direction of the East, setting peacefully in its setting direction of the west. It knows that if it does not come out and shine, man shall freeze and die and so will everything else. And if it does not set, crops shall wither and dry out, and so will the water holes and the oceans. It will shine so brightly, not to necessarily give you a brighter future, but so as to give you light to see your path clearly, and arrive at the right destination. It will set, So that you can rest from your trips, And take your mind away from your worries.