The Bleeding Sun

“He who learns must suffer. And, even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget, falls drop by drop upon the heart, until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.” — Aeschylus.

 

Some lessons which endeavor to teach
Are ripe with right soundness and joy
Yet some infringe and invade our existence
With rivers of of inexhaustible tears

And if wisdom is sought, as it should be
What then is the profit and cost
Do I gain a life painted in knowledge, profound
Or perhaps earn perturbation and innocence lost

If ignorance is bliss, then why should I try
To explore the ocean’s depths or reach for the skies
Be careful what you wish for, I was warned as a child
Your desires might come true with life tarnished, defiled

Quietly enraptured, our Sun bleeding radiant life
As it rose o’er the horizon, shining to wake me
And now late, the stars kiss the soft brilliance of night
The Sun reflected in the eyes of a voiceless, still moon

Now the nighttide air embraces me
An earthly boundary between me and heaven shining above
My heart, desperate to reclaim any virtuous past
With hope for hidden wisdom and any innocence that might last