Rising Sun

I suffer in darkness, the light cannot reach my soul.

In darkness I bloom, in the embers I died in, I shall become a new being.

In darkness born, in darkness blinded.

“Help!”

I cry.

“Mother!”

I need your touch of warmth and love.

I cannot survive much longer, thought my soul yearns for light.

I leave for the stars, a rising sun of burning tears and flames.

I have no one to call, to weep for in the night, to touch with my rays.

Now a setting sun, I die.

With no fanfare, I leave.

I am not mourned by another.

I shall rise again, -once a star, and now the sun,- tomorrow.


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