I chased suns across deserted plains,
where I'd hope to find my thirst quenched,
and I followed illusive daydreams round the sharpest corners
and into dimly-lit rooms, wherein, they lost me as a tail.
And owing myself to senses was like breathing fire.

In over-tired and undeserved reset, found in childish play,
where ideas were born and raised,
I built castles and named them after hazy thoughts
that crept in through the gaps in the shuttering lids
of my eyes,
as I fought with myself to calm my own mind
for long enough to dream those dimly-lit places into existence
in the first place.
The purple light bled in, and flowed down the staircase,
across a stone floor and under the table, like the dog, sniffing out the ball.
And there, at my quivering feet, it stopped.

I chased suns across skies that didn't exist,
and it made no difference at all.

A tipped hat on a coat stand started a conversation I can't ignore
and left me blind to a million things.
But I kept following suns and they lead me places -
Down pathways and tunnels and into houses.
Over egos and principle and into sorrow.
Round in circles and back the other way.
But I kept chasing.
And now the sun in down,
and I wait for it by the window.
Soon to rise, beginning the game anew.

I told someone about my suns,
and they told me about their moons.
I had never felt such light.
But for all the moons, I cannot forget my suns.
And I keep chasing until they are mine.