Helios

This is a poem that I write
Because the words have failed the tongue.
This is a canticle of night
Because my grail has spilled the sun.
I was religious, though I thought
Myself as godless as the dust
That trails the galaxies till caught
By cosmic winds without a gust,
Instead I worshipped those who bear
The sun and heart inside a cup
They call their purpose (though in there
Its orb is spent and won’t light up…).
My sun broke through that urn of woes,
And now it’s in my mouth, it glows.