Our sun was once reality,
secure, surreal simplicity;
so bright each day and bright at night
marooned as moon's reflected light.

The sun was there when man began
his journey unto nature's plan;
the god of gods to ancient eyes
before man formed linguistic lies.

Pure sustenance that rings for all
the creatures great and creatures small,
an orb of fire and living heat
which takes and makes man's life complete.

The sun was man's first burnished guide,
creation's fire so filled with pride
yet now the sun cries burning tears
as she observes man's warring years.

The sun is hurt deep in her core
(her blessings bright are dimmed by war)
and nature stands by helplessly
as man destroys his dignity.

Then nature turns to ask the sun:
"What on this earth can now be done?"
The sun screams out a solar shout:
"The soul of man is now without

the love that made him part of me,
he drowns in war's iniquity."
And all the stars which once shined true
weep for their sun and weep for you.

Soon all the creatures great and small
will die with man at his last fall
and then the sun shall lose her light
into the lost eternal night.

With no man's eyes, to gaze upon,
our sun becomes both dead and gone;
another fallen tree alone
unseen, unheard and stripped to bone.

The sun without man's eyes to see
is lost for all eternity;
the wars he fought for ego's greed -
have left our sun to weep and bleed.