30 Minutes to Sunset

I am not a sun-worshipper.

Yet I can’t avoid its taunting glare at noon

as it seeps its scorching rays through the blinds,

or glows in maddening blaze behind curtains,

making their patterns, reverse shadow puppets.

The steady glow dims then turns on as if

10,000 watts empower it in its attempt at mocking

As scarce clouds pass by, the sun hides,

Perchance laughs

Then back again to wreak its intoxicating rage stimulation

Brows knit

Sweat pours

The low hum of the air conditioner offers small comfort

Temporary

Only cooling the coals of unsettling somewhat

Temporary

You try to sleep away this afternoon war

Else rage displaces

Creeping away from my dark veiled room

I can’t help but take a second glance at the hallway

And surrender…

Surrender to the forgotten unexpected

Grandeur of gold

Not brilliant

But soft

Soft gold

A peace offering?

Or another mock gesture?

I am not a sun-worshipper

But I feel bittersweet for sunsets.