jealous of the sun
the sun sleeps longer than I do
what kind of sick joke is that?
it feels like the cruel bastard
is waiting for me to come up…
and him — everyone’s talking
about his big day… people
scouting out prime locations,
taking days off from work,
buying special glasses just
to witness it — the solar eclipse…
but I’m sitting here thinking,
what about me?
I too am being eclipsed
I have been occluded,
blocked, unable to show
my real talents
for what feels like far too
long now — unbearably long…
and who’s standing around
trying to watch me?
no, they’d rather take me
by my darkened core
and make a blunt
instrument out of me,
some kind of tragic example
of what happens when
you burn too bright too fast
or blast the fire from both ends…
but then I think…
the sun too has been in flames,
torched to no end, scorched
all around, flaring, spewing
molten miasma, burning itself
up for billions of years! for what?
all so that a few billion
meat-filled thought machines
could keep their rock warm
while they intend to wreak
havoc on the rest of the universe?
I shouldn’t be jealous of the sun
he deserves his sleep too
that guy’s been giving and giving,
being used up
for far longer than I have…
he’s earned his place
he’s earned his audience
