poem about the sun

On nights after hot days it becomes more eveident

that the sun is gone.

The moon may well provide some light,

yet the UV-rays and the warmth fade away.

Artificial sunshine cannot fulfill the purposes

and in their essence they feel wrong.

A cold feeling stays with you

the sun cannot be controlled.

The sun makes our plants grow

yet also burns down landstrips and forests.

The sun can paint the most beautiful colours in the sky

but will blind those who dare risking a direct look.

Its energy creates molecules and fuses them anew.

It is seen as a god and

we are dictated by its innate rules

innate and made for no-one.

By day the sun gives colour and detail

but also casts shadows.

And by night the sun is gone

and we are only left to sleep.