Low sun bleeds pale gold,
Spilling across the unwashed sky
Bleaching everything it touches,
Leaching life and colour.
Bare trees fade to cry,
Weak and feeble rays
Diffuse and ineffective.
Tired, worn world waits.
Time
Stands
Still.
Suspended between past and future,
Fear and hope,
Evil and good,
Darkness and light.
In this moment poised in eternity
Anything is possible.
The sun stands still
And waits for an answer.
Poiema 