the sun wouldn't want to show up
for it has been pushed away
by the cry and the curses
of those who mourn in the night
when their loved ones fade and die
when the dark has come
with a scythe in hand
the people cursed the sun
for ever letting it happen
for not staying to protect
and keep away the hands of death
dressed in a luminous glow
with an orb of dim white
gravely following from behind.
the sun would not rise
and the hills and the mountains
help it hide
softly tucked in a wad blankets
in its bed in space
away from the living creatures
who never believed
and never embraced death.
