Sunset 33 AD
Mike Tapley
The setting sun peeks over
The skull-shaped mountain,
Humbling itself to reveal
A glimpse of the moon and the stars,
Yet illuminates still the orange-brown
Dirt of the dusty hills
Now stained crimson
From the deep-red drips
Down the tree
That hangs the dying man,
Humbling himself even though
He created the sun
And the moon
And the stars.
As the sun drops below
The silhouette mountain,
An eternal momentary silence invites
The swirling of wind
And the creaking of trees,
Reminding the quiet listener that
The sun will rise tomorrow and
That man the next dawn.
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