Father Sun

In the cradle of dawn,
where whispers of light dance
upon the horizon's edge,
lies the eternal hymn of
the golden orb above.

Celestial father, infinite in glow,
your unsung songs weave through
the tapestry of night and day,
like threads of ancient tales,
known only to the stars
that cradle your essence.

Sing, oh Father Sun,
to the shadows that slip
between moments of solitude,
for only they know
the warmth of your embrace
and the silence
of your symphony.