The sun is careless.
It's a layman in a dark closet
Holding a blowtorch
To a fine fabric.
Were I to look towards someone
For tips on industry,
It wouldn't be the sun.
But the sun is industrious.
It is a self-contained energy source,
Burning constantly, churning out
Heat and flame,
Blind of it's own idiot strength.
The sun is industrious,
But it doesn't know anything
About jazz, or about art, or about beauty.
It can't even see the stars (those brilliant
Dead messengers)
Through the continuous blaze
Created by it's own snapping pistons.
Frankly put,
I'm wary of things that promote
Sweat in others,
But do not sweat themselves.
And as it were,
All the best things
Happen in the dark anyway.
Climate Change
Spencer Troxell lives in Cincinnati with his wife and two kids.His work has appeared all over the web. He's 26.