Worshipped through the
Leagues of time
By unworthy worshippers.
In your name
Many came to
Bow to you.
Spoilt thus,
You are a star;
A source of life;
The source of light
By which we measure
This thing called time.
But spoilt thus,
Merely star you are;
Not alone in galaxies,
Never known for that
Which your subjects
Fail to see.

Paternal Sun –
Worshipped one.
Your light brings life;
Your fire, death.
You dry the earth
Of its life blood –
Water – which is
As Light to Life –
A must.

Why then this
Contradiction?
Should a father
Feed one son in
Plentitude?
And dry the only
Food of another?
And pry the very
Life blood from
One’s brother,
Another of your sons?

Of what plane are you?
The earth plane
(Which you sustain)
Has no comprehension
For you.
You are a ball.
A worshipped ball,
Of fire,
Of light.

And men still do
What they would –
They go
And worship you.
Sun God.
Spoilt God
Of man’s making.
You shed
The light for
Earth’s taking,
And hinder the very
Souls, so slow
In awakening
To the Truth of all.

You’re just a sunshine ball.