Soon / The Last Dance

Soon the sun will sing her final melody, celebrated snippets of light resounding; but now, she yearns for slumber. Another summer passed. Her appointment once more is over. And soon she will stand aside for Lady Ice, bowing her weary head in silent salutation. Once more a monumental rendezvous, promenading in immaculate timing; their flirtatious theatre before the world.

Soon, tiny beasts will once more go into hiding, whilst others breathe their final breaths. Life ebbing slowly away, the footlights to their own shows dimming, for the last time; until their summer songs are over. And soon, their disremembered passings will lend room to the dawn of new life; delicate, fragile. But mostly, invisible.

Soon, blossoms will submit to soundless the call of apathy, Mother Nature nurturing them within her breast as they slink into transient respose; their
affairs with creation over for another season.

Soon, provinces may consider these evanescent marvels with resolute nostalgia. And soon the artistry of the worlds most illustrious show may continue to go unnoticed; once more.