The Sun and Moon

The sun ascends, a golden, gentle hand, Unfurling life across the sleeping land. A tender bud, a fragile, hopeful bloom, Unknowing of the shadows, and the tomb. We chase the light, with laughter and with tears, Through fleeting joys, and dissipating years. We build our dreams on foundations frail and slight, And watch them crumble in the fading light. The wind whispers secrets, of journeys yet untold, Of mountains climbed, and stories to unfold. Of love's embrace, a comfort warm and deep, And silent sorrows, where the memories sleep. The moon ascends, a silver, solemn grace, A gentle hush descends on time and space. The fading breath, a whisper soft and low, A quiet journey, where all souls must go. Yet fear not darkness, for it holds no sting, But peace profound, on silent, folded wing. For life's brief candle, though it burns so bright, Will find its solace in eternal night. The cycle turns, a rhythm old and true, From dust to dust, a journey we all pursue. And though we mourn the passing of the day, New life will blossom, come what may.