Image by Myriam Zilles from Pixabay

Where Does Sun Roost?

I think of time:
And twilight
In the garb of oxblood sun,
Expressing near the horizon.
The twilight sun
with tears furrowed eyes
And dilating to tell of yet another reluctant exit
Into the poor children’s impenetrable riddle:
Where does sun roost?

I do think of time
But no more vain struggle
Along the wilderness of imagination,
Or illusion,
Or fantastic extrapolation Into the abyss of days-
Virgin, unscathed days-
coming, winding, promissory of fresh yellow sun,
And such other lullabies that used to abduct my mind
From what is extant and possible
And imprison my strength
In the stark, impregnable gaol of fantasies:
Where does sun roost?

First thing tomorrow is patches of fog;
A certain lesson with age is dream has no might
Exacting actions.
My heart has grown older than the relics of extinctions
So I’ll leave now with my boredom and excesses.
But where does sun roost?


The last time I looked unto the sky,
In its prime,
Staring at the afternoon sun
That shone brightly into my eyes;
Melting the irises, cashing the pupils,
Penetrating the retinas and intruding right into my skull
To leave me with nothing but a blurred bluish vision
Which saw not beyond the encrustations upon my mind,
I had just one wish:
No more nights, no more darkness;
That the sun lingered,
Waxed stronger
And performed even more than its pristine role:
Reflected the “real” world,
Extinguished the clouding facades,
Granted concrete illumination to the peculiar realities
Within even the darkest of souls,
Within the pessimistic minds, that see possibility
In nothing except what has been;
And bestowed upon each, a sense of sheer fulfillment
Resultant of a magical one-swoop extinction of what we have,
Giving way to the emergence of a new world
Coloured in the individual’s definition
Of what it means to live, you know,
And fruitfully.

Not better than another utopian
Seeing a world owned by all,
The last time I looked unto the sky,
It was a mirage.

Bayo Aderoju is a first class graduate of English Language and Education. He writes on time and individual consciousness, social trends and justice. Bayo is currently resident in Lagos and he’s working towards publishing his first poetry anthology. Outside of poetry, Bayo is a dramatist with a good number of play manuscripts and successful stage productions to his name.

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