The sunsets are not that bad,
But what if, along you set?
The last evening of the year,
Will the perceptions still be clear?
If the sun ever knew his going was due,
Is this a fact that he ever will rue?
It’s all you have, what will be more dire.
The possibility that you set with an ire?
The horizons will soon fade,
The senses you once cherish will degrade?
Though the majestic maybe the sun,
Could it still rise, had earth not spun?
But the sun would still be there,
Though on earth his glory would be rare?
On horizons unknown will he shine,
Those new home, will he call them mine?
For tides come and tides go,
Not an ounce deducted from the flow?
Worry not for the canvases change,
Worry not for only impressions remain?
Worry not for once the tree was a seed,
Worry not for it will be all that will remain?