THE FIRST SUN

The first sun will not look like the last:
Nothing seems new—except as we look back at the past.
Bright the sky, bright trying to look through the blue
Radiance—the radiance of a sun burning, and all dark things, too.

The dream you have when you wake up
Will look different in the evening,
And by tomorrow it will
Not be friendly at all.

The one you want most
You can’t have,
Not because you fail, or they fail you,
But because wanting is not having.
Amazement was left on the pavement
As the skyscrapers grew.

The worst, that will spoil all your fun:
You will love several;
You will not love one.

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