My responsibility is to always wake up and provide the world with my eternal flame and when it is time to sleep I let the moon take my place.  Oh, how I envy the moon, with its gentle light that greets everything and everyone through the dusk with an embrace.  I am aware of my strengths that help the living heal, identify, grow, and make dreams come true where the wintertide makes it impossible to be.  How long before everyone is tired of my radiance?  Who am I but the scorching sun that pierces all? Leaves to the soil, abundant fruit that’s filled with life that I suck out dry, humans that turn to walking cauldrons with the blood that I involuntarily boil.  I can sense many people walking towards the door to cool down within minutes of my touch.  The ones who have a long journey ahead of them burn.  I do not mean to, If I could speak or interact with them, I would.  But I cannot, I am the sun and I must stay where I belong, 93 million miles away.  It’s absurd to want to cry for someone who is incapable and has no knowledge of how it feels.  That’s probably for the best. If I were to make contact with water, it’ll break down more hydrogen and oxygen which would give me more fuel and I will explode into a supernova.  Which is more absurd than the thoughts that came before.  Suddenly, at the center of my solar core, I feel it pulsate with greater reason.  The fire within me grows.  My flame is not destructive, it is life and passion.  I know now that not only am I here to take on responsibility but further have passion with purpose.  The world needs me essentially as I need them, I need not be selfish and want more than what I can see and hear.  The sight of humans and animals alike soaking in my warmth for an invigorating day, children playing tag in a playground,  people dancing, making art, showing love, a field of grass swaying in wind, flowers blooming, and turtles heading to shore.  The sound of music, laughter, cries, waves against rocks, birds tweeting, leaves crunching beneath your feet, a cat purring, a crackling candle wick, plucked guitar strings, crickets and cicadas chirping and buzzing while a conversation is made around a campfire.  Those are several of the things that make me feel content and happy knowing I keep this world alive despite the damage.  My fire is a heartbeat.  As much as I want those things to last longer, I understand that everything must rest.  Before I part my ways from the heavens I paint colors that take away pain from the world even for just one second.  Giving the moon a grand entrance before the starry skies.