Here, at the end of May, the sun has almost risen, climbed above the horizon , beginning a seasonal tease of long days, short nights, warmth creeping to heat, as we receive the gift of sweat.. People show their skin and more Tits and ass, packages. And for the truly prurient, bellies.
Bellies, the glorious testimonial to baklava and beer. Sometimes,for women, babies grow in those bellies, in útero ,to be more precise. Promises, curses, dreams.
Cycles. That is what the universe shares. Dramatically at Stonehenge or Bethlehem. Always more than a day. Offering light for concupiscence, Darkness for the same.
The really clever people have made their own suns, small enough for rockets to carry. Although useless for growing grain or trees or fruit, these microsuns receive their ill deserved attention.
We make a different sacrifice to these lesser gods, happiness,.
Dispatches From Dystopia 