To Sunchaser the Younger

Burn not your missive,

my dearest son,

for the love of

your dearest sun

burns too hot for mortal hoof.

Hide it, unsent,

lest she say yes.

Would you believe me

if I were to aver

each hue of her mane

is one she once adored,

the fullness of her light

boiling bones to ash

until color alone remained?

Oh? Then you're a fool.

Once,

just once,

she allowed

herself to love

with such purity.

Just once,

one distant dark day,

her fire found focus

on a single stark body,

and she would have let

all else lie in shadow for a thousand years

were her love returned.

Author's Notes:

Poem by Horizon