A cold urban desert landscape, the sun setting
Shall it ever rise again?
The nighttime, criss-crossed wires overhead, buzzing faintly with electricity
That goes where? That does what?
Why is the way not illuminated?
What if the sun, then,
Would not rise unless we lifted it?
Took it upon our hands and backs
Our palms and fingertips scorched for the effort
Nighttime giving way to sunrise
The way illuminated
Burnt hands, sunburnt faces, eyes near blind from brilliance
Throwing off the false gods with their faint passive buzz
The sun was never supposed to set - let us lift it, accept a heroic scalding
So all might bask in sunlight, oh too long has it been since the sun rose
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