with winds to tear
the suns from the sky
stripping them of their azure sash
and hurling them to the rocks below
as faded moons look on and away
turning from the fallen glory
as the heavenly hosts did the same
on that fateful day for Lucifer
the only aid to the toppled suns
the wee messengers of the gods
who still fly and nestle
in their golden breasts
to take with them the solar promise
the glimmering dust upon their hips
and wine of light their lips do sip
a kiss farewell of memory and time
this moment, this chance to take
and scatter seeds to the wind
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