You never know they’re gone until it’s too late.

The sun blossoms in the distance,

piercing bespeckled eyes,

leaving them in tears,

having never seen dying beauty before.

Sunlight takes eight minutes

and twenty seconds

to race across violet oceans,

to make its presence known.

Cosmic oceans drown the screaming.

We don’t hear the sun

because the voices would be deafening.

We are not ready to hear it cry.

We never know when the screaming halts.

We never know when the calls stop.

We never know when the requiem plays.

We never know they’re gone

until it’s too late.