The Battle Of The Moon And The Sun Poem by Strydar Enox

With each day's breath a new one rises,
First bitten by the cold the yule winds freezing.
Each moment colder then the one that past.
Faster they freeze, no warmth has last.

Then comes the warmth, first bare and thin
Like a firey brow, the devils grin?
Still cold air clings to my skin,
stabbing with ice; quick it cuts in

The sky then explodes, such colors exposed.
Vivid oranges and reds like no one knows.
A picture a moment, a portrait the same.
Knowing it to leave a burden for pain.

Shining purples, glowing orange the sky teases on.
Painting a picture divine; all caused from our sun.
Burning reds, stunning whites. Clouds in unions passed on by light.
Such warmth from sight it creates a delight.

Warmth begins to strike now, The cold begins to spite me.
For anyone knows, Where ever one goes
it is always colder before it gets bright.
I pull out a brush and I start my first stroke

A picture I paint with my mind to relate.
Upon the experiances I have mind.
Through moments of strife and moral delight
I watch on full of respite The beauty of the age old fight.

The sun and the moon and the stars even too Are in a war to fight,
One know when the moon has won for he takes his reign at night.
His cold yule wins the stars they spin delighted in their show.
But down goes the moon and up comes the sun the true victor show.

In spite of cold and the dark being done in the day it is the sun has won.
From the moons grave it collects all the days and replaces them all every year
The sun and the moon and the stars even too feel bad for the violence they shed.
So each in turn with the suns help would vanish and off themselves.

The moon you see wasn't done with me so it floats up into the sky.
The sun then peaks the clouds it seeps the dreded dark is gone.
And in the skies I blessed my eyes was scene to make me smile.
The sun you see had created for me a small veiwing of heaven.