In Hiding

and even the sun,
in all her brilliance,
slips into the stillness
of her dark womb
every day
at twilight,
hiding herself,
away from eyes
that cannot hold
her ravishing beauty
for long -
eyes that want to
devour her glory,
tossing and turning
through long, dark nights,
all for a glimpse of her;
and then she arrives quietly,
without fanfare,
while the world still dreams,
burning shadows
along her way,
and fanning the flames
of those hearts
that fear not to walk
in their own light
and shadow.