The Decree

The midday sun blazed hot above his head,
And lifting up his gaze toward yonder sphere
Of burning light, a thought struck hard and spread
Across his tired mind and soon did sear
His soul as hot iron brands a cow’s thick hide.
Enraptured by the radiant glow, all fear,
Though proper ’neath the sun, was laid aside
And lust for what he shouldn’t want did grow
Up in its place, misgivings all denied.
It was a rather simple thought, although
Not bright, and yet it took him all the same:
“The sun, the source of light, decides to show
Or hide this world to farmers. We declaim
The moon-held night when work is lost to dreams
And we reap lesser yields come fall. I’ll tame
That sun and force his all-resplendent beams
To cast their light from dusk to morning’s dawn
As well as in the day. Yes, well it seems
To such a lowly farmer set upon
Nothing but his and other farmers’ good.”
And so the fool impelled his burly brawn
Toward wrangling in the sun, so out he stood
Beneath the sprawling sky with bricks in hand
And laid a firm foundation. Then with wood
He built the sturdy walls of what he planned
To be his tow’r atop which he would rope
The raging beast and cause it there to stand
Mid-flight across the navy sky with hope
Of making his small farm forever day,
Not grasping his rash aim’s enormous scope.
Till one day to the farmer’s great dismay,
He finally let his lasso loose to seize
The sun and all at once his plans fell prey
To harsh realities that didn’t please
The fool as his rope came up far too short
To catch the sun, which only worked to tease
His reckless heart to furthermore assort
Yet more plots that would bring his longed for end.
If not a tow’r, perhaps he’d just extort
The sun’s cooperation and contend
Directly with the king of heav’n and earth
To see whose will would be the first to bend.
So, never recognizing blatant dearth
Of potency on his part, eyes on high,
The farmer swelled his chest to fullest girth
And dared the sun to straight away comply
With his demand that he suspend his flight.
The sun, not even pausing, did defy
The call, soon disappearing out of sight.
The farmer, left alone, began to see
His place beneath the sun there in the night.
The sun is never forced by man’s decree.
Great God, you are the sun; the farmer’s me.

© 2012 Eric Evans

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