Ode to the Tyrant

April 28, 2009
By marc priester BRONZE, Fort Meade, Maryland
marc priester BRONZE, Fort Meade, Maryland
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The sun, a tyrant, forcibly imposing its will of heat and dissolution on the earth. Scorching the Earth’s timid grounds, baking the inhabitants of this world, it never seaces to stop its reign of hateful rays on the plant. It exposes any and everything the Earth tries to hide in the cast of its shadows by shining its unforgiving rays on any and everything, forcing us to view even the most repulsive sights. Funny is it not? How our naked eyes can never view the sun without special provisions for if we do, we will blind ourselves. For it conceals itself in an unshakeable armor of light. We are also foreign to its touch, its feel. Yet do we want to know? It is a raging fire ball that rivals that of hell in Biblical sense. One would not be able to caress its gassy surface for the horrible sensation of their hands be burned at the stake would overwhelm that person and all their senses. Their noses would surely be filled with the aromacy of burning flesh filling their nostrils.

Sun, you are a tyrant, a despot; one man can never hope to conquer, one that man will be at the mercy of for all eternity. Your presence will always be felt, your hatred will always fill the sky, you will continue to blind us with your endless and spectacular rays, and I will continue to rebuff and scorn your presence.

And yet, I cannot live without your presence. Nothing can. You are the corner stone life. You are the heat that warms this otherwise cold and shrill planet. Your light enlightens not only the earth, but the mind and soul. You are the sky angel that shows your love and affection by providing the majestic singing birds, the quiet ant scurrying across the ground, and even I, the human who repulses you and denounces you, with light, warmness, guidance and reinsurance.

This is your ode, o’ fair tyrant. For as long as man could open his eyes and peak at your vastness, we have had an infatuation with you. So this is your ode. Sun. The original, God of the World.

But please, Black Hole Sun, won’t you come? And wash away the rain…

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