He wept for his father
His father who implored
him to not test life, to not
seek treasures unknown
But his son wanted more
and spent his long days
slashing the darkened skies
in conquest of a golden sun
But the son was like a god
opening his mouth to
warm the coldness of the earth
And his father did not bless
the Summers or Winters
of his son with the light
of his departure
The father turned his head
away, his once strong grip,
weakend, only the whitened
hollows of his face did he leave him.