The Sun

I’m tired of working,

but I press on, unwavering.

Hands sore, spirit worn.

My strength, nearly torn.

Though exhaustion makes me sigh.

But I am the Sun, a beacon in the sky.

No matter how weary I grow,

I’ll keep illuminating the world below.

The journey may be solitary, But I’ll persevere, I must.

For even as darkness approaches, in my strength, I trust.

Responsibility weighs heavy, as I inch toward the west.

Can’t abandon my celestial role, until night grants me rest.

-chalatmusafir (HD)

Today, I’ve made an attempt to write a poem for the first time.

The idea struck me one evening as I was looking at the sunset. A couple of weary workers, fresh from their day’s toil, bathed in a nearby lake, oblivious to the sky’s canvas above. It seemed a cruel irony that even the sun, toiling all day, the artist behind this spectacle, couldn’t marvel at its own creation. And yet, it will keep making beautiful sunsets long after we’ve all faded away.

Sunset at Chulna Talav — Vasai

I’ve tried to delve into the fight between weariness and inner strength, highlighting the solitary nature of the sun’s journey while emphasizing its unwavering resolve.

The poem interweaves themes of perseverance, responsibility, and the relentless struggle against exhaustion, artfully blending the physical act of walking with the sun’s arc from east to west.

Let me know if you liked the poem.