Darkness whispers to the Divine,
“This golden tyrant, forever mine,
Hounds my steps with relentless might,
Banishing me at morning’s light.”

But when the Almighty speaks to Day
Of Night’s woeful, plaintive say,
The Sun, perplexed, can only muse:
“What shadow-realm do you accuse?

I’ve danced alone on Time’s grand stage,
Ne’er glimpsed this dark, this starry cage.
What ‘night’ you speak of, I know not—
My reign eternal, without blot.”