The days begin with the slow saturation of the suns rays kissing and caressing the landscape gently awake, like you would your lover who’s still asleep next to you, deep under the warm darkness of sleep.
The sun always arises before the land.
Dutiful in its routine.
In the way that you too are always the first to awake before the form in bed next to you.
A morning person.
I wonder if the sun ever gets weary in its lonely trek across the sky, day after day, fated to a pre-planned path of journeying. Only able to have temporary, though distant relationship with the land and the things upon it.
Too far to ever have much of a chance to get to know the moving things down below, though it’s impression in turn upon them is lasting.
But, I suppose it does have the moon, if only for a brief moment, to play for a time with at dusk on some days. When both the moon and the sun are parallel in the sky from one another.
The moon is in fact the only one who knows a little of what it’s like to be the sun.
More so than any earthbound thing.
Two celestial friends.