We no longer notice
what once a god was
once he's no longer so.
Once a god,
the intensity of men's fears
and passions and joys
and endless repetitive bloody sacrifice -
All were yours -
Mankind's attention enraptured in full,
and temples built over eons
all across the globe
again and again.

Now the sun's a big electric light
to come out and keep our lights dim for some hours:
and only on a summer's day
when the heat warms the skin
and makes a feeling of new life rise
within the chest and through the legs
and they eyes behind the lids are filled
with warmth that warms the brain -
then one sees his beneficence,
the kindness of a violent rage
hidden by distance
from both our mind and space.
Then just a little
we know he's not just
another electric heater:
We can't unplug him or yank out again,
unusable by the whim of our will.

Why should such pale remembrances of thee
be all that's left of your former glory?
Exiled by Genesis first,
but still a sign of the greater Thing -
then by the Machine,
the new providence for men,
that now takes their minds and their loves
and spins with their souls what it wills. 

No longer the Sun, no longer you,
No longer you is such wonder due.

Featured image: ‘The Sun,’ by Edvard Munch (c. 1910), image in the public domain.

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