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Author's note: This is my entry for RedNovaTyrant's "Cruel Fate" Writing Contest. Fate has dealt me the card #19, The Sun.

Blanket clouded chilly day.
As calm air stands still
and lines form in the breeze,
light colors raise and die
under a dazzling range of grey,
and white,
that sits behind the trees,
as cities move high
and underneath
fall leaves,
a child walked alone.

With dirty shoes on the sidewalk.
With pale skin under winter coat.
With a question on their mind,
for the cloud above that floated
underneath the sun,
in between the sky
and on top
of the child.

"It is true," asked the child.
"the sun is warm?
And bright?
And does it shine
behind your grey?
Could that be why
there's light at day?"
Shoes make rough, coarse scrapes
as sounds form shapes,
and distant and low,
a dingy echo,
but nothing replied the cloud.
"How can that be," asked the child.
"when in the way,
you hover, cast
your shroud?"

"The sun's ferocity can burn"
the cloud said,
a voice which spilled like rain.
Cold
and loud,
and fell down the drain.
"I hide you from its hurtful gaze
but some light through my cracks prevails
and that is why there is light at day
when under it I'm cast,"
the airy cloud said last.
Grey all drifting in
from flatness
endless on all sides.
Starless skies
and missing rainfall
under cloudfull nights.
With a churn the cloud said, "Truly,
I dont wish to hide from you the
sight of sunlight
nor of daylight,
healthy may it be."
"Merely," then the cloud continued.
"I protect you
from whats in you
from what images you crave for,
from the burning heat I stay for."

Down below the child listened,
sight of sun unseen.
cold air round their head,
and words unsaid,
they stepped along the still wind's breeze
and underneath the trees.

And that night, rain fell
hard,
and cold,
and loudly crumbled,
crashed,
and froze,
upon the chilly dewy ground
and thunder boomed across the cloud
and underneath
fall leaves
a stream of water pooled and puddled
sloshed down sidewalks,
streets,
and under trees
and sturdy roof
a child slept alone.

CRASH!

And glass came pouring
Mixed with rain
and tumbled to the floor
and soaking in the grain,
between the wood
and on the rug,
the water stained.
The smashed up window yawned
and cried,
with sounds of pain.

A chilly breeze flew in,
like tears,
and the child, in bed
covered his ears,
and prayed the storm away,
so he could sleep till day.

Then, his eyes unscrewed
to see in the sky,
behind the swirling cloud
fighting with itself,
the sun?
How could it be the sun?

A pale frozen sun,
All dim
and old
sat in her throne
ancient and alone
and cold,
in the sky's great land
and sang, with a hollow tune
a feeble command
which sent the storm away
and it was silent until day.



Written by EtherBot
Content is available under CC BY-SA

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