(no subject)

Someone's stolen
my sun. Winter

is an age with no future,
flowers can forget and bloom again
but we're not allowed such
simplicities.

We have old symbolisms.
emotions carved from stone
from before there were names.

all my life I've felt kinship
with that old titan Hyperion
because he was once a king
but was thrown down, in times too old
to remember. and what's the difference
between a past no one remembers
and a fiction?

mythology is a dream we have
of being born.

But that is past. Now they've given his name
to a dark and irregular moon
circling saturn (old cronos, that first usurper)
Now Apollo and Artemis, those bastards,
have taken the roles of children
Helios and Selene. Old sun

frail and small and fearless, in exile
on someone else's soil while
the new kings bicker and war.
such glory once
now sadness

has lips that caress
and devour. On cloudy days in winter
I wait with you

there are no kingdoms now
in heaven

there is wandering
there is gray
there is a dark unseen thing inside

that once burned
that once was a star
that once...