The Sun

[polaris93]

Down a palisade
Of lightning-battered,
Incandescent gases
Pour firefalls
Of roiling flame
Ten thousand miles high:
Eddying across
The endless, seething plains
Of intertwined fire-fungi,
A river of sublimate glass
Rolls down to a screaming sea.

There are sounds so loud
They shriek in whispers,
Light so bright
It seems a dimness;
And here, the heat
Seems cool, with only
The barest hint
Of its Disean power
To nerves laid bare
Of dissolving skin
And bone
And mind
And being.