The sun burns. It inches closer and ignites what is dry and dirty. The sun burns the story of the past laid scattered across the battered earth. The flesh and root eaten alive, peeled back with boiling heat.
It burns hot and strong, denying any hope or wish for being satisfied or coming to an end. The black ash swells in the air and flakes of memories are incinerated in the fraction of an instant. The belly of the fire is orange and consumed with itself. The sun knows itself and will never be ashamed for the sacrificial cleanse its essence brings. There will never be a sorry or excuse. You will lay down and die in the flames without ever owning a god damn thing. I can't wait to see the sun again.