Sunset Dirge Poem by Masharia kanyari

I dedicate this to the day's end,
As nobody weeps for the death of the day,
No candles are lit,
No songs are composed,
No tears wept,
The world simply goes to bed.

Few rejoice in the rising of the moon,
or its cold blue silvery light,
That bathes the earth,
And its distant aloofness,
We fail to embrace the cold night,
Or aknowledge the day's end,
All too busy fighting to live,
Hope fuels us from one day to the next,


We should borrow a leaf from the trees,
Celebrate every single sunset,
For the trees are wise,
Their wisdom lies in their silence,
So evening I take a moment,
I breath. I listen.
To the whisper of the trees,
Music from the creaking, swaying branches,
That creates the magical somberness,
Of sweet and mellow sunset


The trees are old and wise,
They figured out the gist of existence,
Living and letting live,
Enjoying life by the second,
And that a day's beginning
Is way less better than its end.