Gently balanced on the peak with quake and quiver now it leaps
Into the void, surrounds the breach and swallows all the pulsing black.
Northward, skies reflect the coming of defeated night’s succumbing,
Arid beams begin the plumbing of the day’s unreal attack.
Loudly now with growing passion, hanging orb: begin to fashion
Bit by bit the living ration, filling up the rancid lack.
Soon the bitter taste of being starts all kind existence fleeing,
Chasing, hounding, never freeing, waiting for the will to crack.