The Stripes Of The Sun

Lines of radiance
burn deep into the mind,
cut their vibrant etchings
into the crannies where we scream,
we shelter our thoughts from their creations
or worship their scorching
by the images they induce
only never can we say
there is no artist in the dawn,
no tattoo that is placed
upon the morning.

Whatever the eyes choose to see
among the brushes of rays
will be the tints we mix
within our own brains,
where some feel a sting
others a caress,
but it always leaves a mark
for us to love or protest.