The sun rises quietly like a peeping tom
and sneaks an intrusive look
through open windows of the mind
made so to be visible by innate honesty.
It’s a moment of joy and sorrow combined
that forces on the sun a hasty rise above
for to move and hide the view
a time to tabulate all discrepancies.
Yet even with the plus/minus,
pros and cons, maybe this, maybe that,
laid in order down the page
the sun still sits bewildered.
The problem in the manner of
one who can discern the truth
is how to navigate through junk
and settle for the meaningful.
And in the time it takes to make
a table that enhances love
and disregards the human force
chaos reigns down on the ground.
Not me, you see, but ‘tis the sun
that dilly dallies far above
until the sink brings in sleep
and night completes the table.
But, lo, the sun must rise again
on a day not as the one before
and must like you and me and them
rework through junk to enhance love.
The sun, the sun; I pity one
that can’t from sleep remain at peace
and un-bewildered hold in hands
the night’s tabulated meaningful!