The Sun and I

I stand in the sun, in the searing heat. Others around me cower away from the brightness, from the high temperature. Not me. I stand firmly, embracing the light that would blind me. I stand boldly, accepting the fierce desert heat. It does not drain me, does not make me burn. Instead, it makes me come alive, gives me a power I never knew. The light of the moon is gentle, motherly. This is the opposite. The sun’s love is passionate, severe, and is only graced upon those who can accept it and withstand it. The sun and I are old friends. We understand each other. We are proud and intense. Any who cannot stand with us, stand against our fire. Fire has two parts: heat and light. These elements dance and fight, each one eternally trying to gain the upper hand, each one eternally keeping the other balanced. I fight with the sun, trying to outshine, to burn out, to eclipse this fiery spirit. Nothing will make me bow, not the sun, nor the heat, nor even the light. I stand tall, and I accept and refuse the sun at the same time. For we are kindred spirits, the sun and I: both made of fire, both burning bright in darkness.