Sol Poem by Ofentse Mercy Hajane

Drawn to destruction,
Like a moth drawn to fire.
Perhaps we are moths drawn to our own demise.
Looking at ever changing force of greatness.
My ancestors were kin to its power,
They called it Ra, the giver of life, the one who is reborn eternally.
They called it Helios strutting about the sky with his chariot.
For millions of years this was as close as we got to staring at the face of creation.
Pulling about at its mask and trying to unravel the mysteries of the vast darkness.
But not until lately did we ever muse at its true form.
Those who gaze at it at the distance,
trotting about the sky are blessed.
But those who've seen it up close know how unrecognizable the beast is,
to them it spew horror.
Some say the heavens drives life to its fate.
But we know better, hell is the center of life itself.
Boiling violently with a turbulent sea of fire about the center of our system.
This devilish mammoth form,
A titan of terrible beauty.
Mesmerizing, attracting, pulling and never wanting to let go of us.
An ever hungry beast, chowing away its core bit by bit.
Signalling danger, and threatening to bring destruction upon the earth.
This god created life and demands it to keep its distance.
Those who heed not its warning, are to heed it anger.
Spitting at them with prominence, charged particle of radiation.
But for us those who keep safe and play about the unwritten rules of its making.
We are guaranteed a slow death, under the bake of it power