O Yea Sun Poem by jojji Kaka

Of the sound of sickly crickets. 
At the mid of the night

O yea cruel sun

Where shall you be?  

At the comfort of your habitat.. 

Maybe shining to the angels 

Or perhaps walking with the Deity. 

Down here, I shall be composing an unsung tone

My hair shall have turned grey

My bones exhausted 

And when you shall in the morning return.... 
When behind the eastern rocks you rise

O you early morning sun

At the crack of dawn I shall have sung!