The sun, a radiant inferno, makes its way through the sky.
As it reaches the end of its arc, it begins to fuse with the horizon.
Oranges and yellows, purples and blues.
Appear at the point of fusion.
The sun continues onward, and it is quickly enveloped by the watery horizon.
So passes the day away into the night.
In the east, over the mountains covered with tall evergreens,
Shines the twinkling of a light.
It is not the light of the sun.
No, it is a pure, white light.
An hour passes, and she reveals herself,
Revealing to everyone below her full glory.
Her light is weaker than that of the sun,
But she is loved just the same.
Beside her there are many twinkling lights,
The lights of far away worlds.
Following the same path as the sun,
The moon moves in an arc through the sky.
At its apex,
Exactly at midnight,
It was as if the hands that held the moon in place had suddenly let go.
The moon went dark,
Becoming a large, black orb,
One that was getting bigger and bigger.
Then the sky was ablaze.
Large balls of fire fell to the Earth.
Of course, it fell too.
It got closer and closer.
It got bigger and bigger.