The Orion Halo

It was a mid-day morn
A man on terrace
With few drapes worn,
Just out of bath
To repeat those prayers
Daily sworn.

With folded arms he was standing,
Facing the Sun
He was praying.
What could be seen
Was him and the star
An invisible beam joining.

His folded arms were like wings
Ready to span
And slice the winds
But like a chained bird
Yearning for a flight
Earth-bound were all his whims.

This man so meagre
And the sun so spectre,
A placid thought makes eager,
Provokes to think
All are creepers and helpless
To the sun – a beggar.

The Sun was from here
Not in full view.
Thus I learned whence
It could be seen through.
And the great Sun was now
But a wee ball of fire.

Kissed by incest Icarus,
Doused by the lake of Bohemia,
Unchanted it glowered
As just a source of warmth.
In an astronauts dream to one day
Travel to the centre of the ocean.

Then by the steps slowly,
He sailed down.
The Sun was ornate newly
With a raining black sound:
The frame bore a screaming picture
Of a setting sun – lowly.

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