The Arc Of The Sun Poem by Thyris Taylor

The Sun rises each day in the east,
like a new baby being born.
its light reaches over the horizon,
the brilliance wakes the morn.

The Sun climbs upwards, until overhead,
feeding any entity yet to be fed.
The Sun provides warmth, lights the way,
travels to the west, closes out the day.

This Sun is present for all seasons,
its sunlight shines for ethereal reasons.
The Sun then drops from it's perch on high,
completing it's arc across the earthly sky.

Each day the sunlight comes to an end.
The light goes out, and darkness descends.
The Sun grows old, starts to set, fades away.
All that is left is the memory of the day.

Life is like the Sun's arc across the sky.
We're born, grow old. We set, then we die.
Though this is true, don't despair, or be sad.
The Sun will rise tomorrow, be glad.