It All Depends upon the Sun

It all depends upon the sun.
The ancients knew this wisdom
And kept their eyes upon it
And their hearts open
To the fortunes and misfortunes
That shone their way.
It depends where you were born under it
And to whom, for sure
For its blessed beauty
Can spin and turn into the worst of curses
And callously take away
The given gifts,
But then, just as soon as later
It can shower wealth, and peace
And hope.

It all depends on the sun
And how you stand beneath it,
Strong in salutation
Or stooped by the likely tyrannies
That come to us and sort
The mettle of our souls.
Each day begins dependably
Glimmering, teasing, provoking
Taunting, and even torturing.
We cannot change its course
Although we can sometimes change ours.

It all depends upon the sun
And how we choose to shine.

Scraping and Digging

I’d like to get a handle
On this door to my demise
And to step across that threshold
And to find to my surprise
That there is no lasting comfort
In the skin that I am in
And to be so self-inflicted
Seems the ultimate of sins.