By Andrew R. Duckworth
Sunset over steel and stone
The sun lowered back into its cage
While stars make the sky their own
And pink and orange clouds set the stage
At Day’s End
When the mourning moon
Only focuses on its short time
And the children get lulled to bed with rhyme
And the tyrants work to hide their every crime
While the masses sleep
And the angels weep.
Day was but a short time for eyes
That set their gaze upon endless skies
Of blue and gray that breaks at midday.
Day’s end comes in rapid pace
To set upon that wicked race
And keep the people in their place
Before we see a state’s true face.
But as the wicked work their will
A sky awaits brighter still
That shows God’s handiwork fulfilled,
Scattered stars and moon with scars,
The view of astronomers until
But when the sun is free again,
It greets us as a newfound friend,
And shines a light on wicked men
Who try to cover up their sin.
A beaming light holds darkness at bay,
A prayer to sustain another day.