To Love Your Neighbor

The sun is quite remarkable.

Every morning she shines her light through the blinds, highlighting the floating specs of dust in the air; reminding me of the subtle beauty of the world’s lines. I remember when she first arrived at dawn, with the odor of wild flowers and morning dew she spoke of things anew, the bees and roses, music and food, before laying down at night in a glorious nude. Happiness was in the mornings when she begun to stir.

With a stretch and a yawn, she rises and the world begins to move. With a stretch and a groan, she clothes herself in a veil of silk and cloth to illuminate the sky, light and a blue sky existing even above a thundercloud and a rainy time. When the clouds roll past, her child watered and fed with her warmth, as twilight approaches, she sits and reads her current book. Happiness was in the mornings when she begun to stir.

I remember when we first spoke; admiring her at my door as she arose to the sky, she asked me what I liked of her essence and I answered, “the life you provide.” Her response was a somber one, with a smile and a giggle she retorted, “Be careful Mr., too much of me can burn your wings, and all of us can fall especially when too daring.” With the blow of a kiss, she went to work to provide for her child. I watched her dress and impress, from my windowsill I was left to digress, my reasons for admiring her such. Happiness was in the mornings when she begun to stir.

With a growl and a scowl, the moon spoke to me in the night, with the power to affect the waves he expressed his might. He noticed me at my windowsill after twilight, after the sun laid down for rest, he repeated to me twice, “You’ll never touch the sun, for I am the best.” The sun had another admirer, and I was competing for her affections. Happiness was in the mornings when she begun to stir.

With a smile and a yawn, her child awakes her at dawn. Her happiness, galloping around the room as a fawn, notices the moon, lying motionless outside in the lawn. With a gasp and a cry, she realized the moon had breathed his last. Last night, he got a bit done with me admiring the sun; he thought he was the better, and he tried to wrestle for her affections; but on me was the power of heaven, with a squeeze and a roar, I held my own little piece of her. Now, he is done; the only thing I will see out of my windowsill, is the beauty of the sun. Happiness was in the mornings when she begun to stir, and great was my joy knowing I was her only admirer.