It’s Nothing Special

It’s nothing special.
You’ve heard about it before:
stories of its exploits
and its retreats.
You’ve seen
how its ruthlessness
has marred
humans, plants,
and any unsuspecting organism
that, in its ignorance,
comes too close.

Itself? An eternal flame;
an immortal beast.
It watches as its neighbours
circle it—slowly,
revolving. And there,
in the centre, it lies
in wait. It’s patient,
ever-present, knowing
that the time will come
when it consumes us
once and
for all.

So why,
in its absence,
do we miss it?
It’s unfathomable—
the void that it leaves behind
when it retreats
behind the heavy veil
of the earth.
When obscured by the disorienting cloud
of dragon’s breath,
to us it seems more of a lost ally
than a wary enemy, waiting
to lunge
from its secret hiding place.

It’s as if we have lost a friend,
a comrade-in-arms,
who has always supported us
when the days are long
and spirits are dull.
Its presence evaporates the foggy troubles
of our confusing, convoluted lives,
and carries with it
a promise of hope
and new tomorrows.

How can something
so ancient, so powerful,
be both the object of our fear
and our admiration?
How can it comfort,
warm, caress,
backstab, shun, and burn
all at once?
Must we rely on it forever to sustain
our mind, body, and spirit?
Are we its prisoners—
or its beneficiaries?

When I search the sky for answers,
I find a selfless star,
forever shining.
As we grumble and mutter
in the endless grey
of the earth below,
it tries and tries to share its light.
Despite the accusations
and daggers of blame,
the sun continues to radiate
its energy, vitality, and lifeforce,
in the ultimate act
of self-sacrifice.

It’s only the guardian of our galaxy,
our timekeeper and confidant.
Beautiful, dazzling,
the finishing touch
to life’s paintings.
Scenes are elevated, dignified, and perfected
with only a single ray.
We cannot begin to measure the impact,
the magnitude of its illumination
on each and every aspect of our lives.
Without it, a reflective pool
becomes an unforgiving void;
we lose sight of our futures,
stumbling
through the darkness.

But it’s nothing special,
really.