Two suns rise in the east under two different skies:

Under one sky: a golden chariot gallops among the mountaintops, waking the earth.
The four valiant horses cut their sun through the passive night’s sleep
  with the power of Apollo’s poetic tongue.
Under the other sky: a mighty mandjet paddles over the pyramids, reheating the sand.
The single sun disk guides his rays through the underworld to the heavens
  protected by the sharp eye of Ra.

Two suns meet in the east under one sky:

A ring of elegant light crashing into flames --
A chariot without horses --
A mandjet without oars --

Two suns clash in the east battling for sky:

They shake hands with weapons, dooming the flight of Apollo and the passage of Ra.
Harp strings stretch from Apollo’s shining form, wrapping righteously against the other’s ashy skin.
Turning for his chariot, a blue flame sizzles past his laurel, the form of Ra two paces from destruction.

Two suns blast in the east marring the sky:

Below, the ground bathes in fire,
  the decay of crop and livestock -- unnoticed by the two suns.
Below, the people rot in war,
  the battle of belief desecrates their worshippers -- unnoticed by the two suns.
Below, their cultures fester,
  the world unable to claim separate skies.
Then Ra gazed below -- sickened with fear.
And Apollo crumbled to his knees -- weeping with dismay.

Two suns wail in the east without a sky:

Apollo and Ra fall prostrate from their careless destruction.
And they reach out for the other’s anguish, clasping hands in the hostile inferno.
And the warring fire that stained the sky black danced into a single flame, bestowing the night.

Two suns unify into one and set beyond the horizon: rising tomorrow as equals who share the earth, the sun, and the sky.