Pick up the sun, keep it shining till midnight,
But wrap it in clouds so your fingers won’t burn.
Then save it for times when the world has no starlight,
When darkness would come while the moon can’t return.
The sun in your pocket glows ever so slightly—
It calls for its home in the blankets above,
But somewhere, the voice of the lost whimpers lightly
With all the abandoned – the poor and unloved.
The sun in your pocket, rays open, unfolded,
Is waiting to enter the freezing, black night,
And ignoring your cries—for your hands were the coldest—
You flung out the sun and it bled with its light.
The sun in the heavens shines bright with its flickers,
A promise to watch us and never depart.
The sun in the heavens will last for forever,
And so will the sun in your pockets and heart.
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