The Silence Beyond the Sun

Upon a dusk of endless gray,
When all the world has ceased to play,
I stand alone and hear the moan
Of fleeting hours, like winds unknown.
The sun, once warm upon my face,
Has gone to hide, to leave no trace,
And in the air, a shadow lies–
A quiet call, a soft demise.

I feel the chill, the creeping dread,
Of all that lies in darkness–dead.
The earth beneath, so cold, so wide,
Where none shall walk, where none shall bide,
And though I weep, and though I pray,
I know the dawn shall never stay.

O fleeting life! O Fragile breath!
You whisper soft of coming death,
Yet, still, I cling to moments bright,
To touch, to feel, to feel the light.
The sun upon my skin, my soul,
The warmth that makes my spirit whole.
But how it fades, as shadows creep,
A bitter thought that bids me sleep.

And in the stillness–far, too far–
I hear the call of death, a star
That beckons from beyond the tide,
Where none may go, where none may hide.
Nevermore, it softly sighs,
A promise etched in midnight skies,
That all things end, and so Must I,
And yet, I shudder as I die.

For though I pass, and though I fade,
The sun I loved, the light I prayed,
Shall burn no more, nor warm the skin,
Nor kiss the earth beneath my chin.
Yet in the darkness, still I stand,
A soul who sought with trembling hand
To touch the sun and hold it near–
But now I live in endless fear.

For what is life, if not the breath,
That dances bright before the death?
And what is death if not the shade
That comes too soon to steal, to trade?
O fleeting breath, O fleeting sky,
You whisper low, yet wonder why–
And I, who long to touch the light,
Am lost within eternal night.