Fiery Sunset

I have never lived, O lord,
And yet I am also quite dead.
The evening is so blue
Its vision must strike
Even common objects
As beautiful and sad,
Things that cannot otherwise
Form a thought.

The mountain man in his pelts
Two hundred years ago
Even stops to take it in.
There are his tracks in the snow.
This history book photo
Proves it so.

On a night such as this
Thoughts of a tyrant shaving
With a cut throat razor,
Thoughts of other things…
A forest absent of human presence,
A night that never ceases.

I watched the sun put to sleep
Rocked like a trashcan
With a child hiding inside,
Rocked like dead leaves
On a road with trees overhead,
Sung a wordless lullaby
By someone drowning
In the moonlight.