I was on my way home.
I had wrestled with the cold
winds of dark, and disappeared into
the nothingness of those shadows
which devour lands and seas while
eyes and mouths are shut like doors.
And, emerging from that great void of
night—as veils of slumber were lifted
in the bright ascent of red dawn—
I took to a wayward path by call of the
beacon that shined forth in the East.
East, whence the champion of light
silently rode to conquer sweet Soir.
And Earth, great as she be, called the
shroud of shade to her other face.
I stood upon her back as she turned—
as her great weight tumbled forward.
Slowly, the golden disk reached higher
into the powder-blue dome above.
I watched as the horizon bowed.