And when the sun rises,

our eyes are given color once again.

They reflect that eternal fiery bloom

that kisses our lips and burns our skin.

And like Icarus, we are infinitely

drawn to his blazing heart; we

lay out our limbs and pray for a glimpse

of his head peaking over the horizon.

And the fishermen cast their lines

until they reel in their first star;

the captains spin their fortunes

until their boats cast shadows

on a sky burning with darkness.

Only then is the heat relinquished;

the flame brought to death

by a horse-drawn chariot.

And these constellations breathe life

into the sky, their arms wrapping our eyes

in an incandescent embrace,

until Aurora takes the reigns,

her carriage sweeping the heavens,

so we can do it all again.

Inspired by Claude Monet’s Impression, Sunrise