He wept for his father
His father who implored
him to not test life, to not
seek treasures unknown

But his son wanted more
and spent his long days
slashing the darkened skies
in conquest of a golden sun

But the son was like a god
opening his mouth to
warm the coldness of the earth

And his father did not bless
the Summers or Winters
of his son with the light
of his departure

The father turned his head
away, his once strong grip,
weakend, only the whitened
hollows of his face did he leave him.