honey embalms the moment
for waking dreamers
caught in eternal amber
time yet drinks the wine of life
The sun rises over sea and field, winter and summer, seen and unseen behind the veil of clouds, turning all it touches to gold. I think of Midas, the king whose desire for riches caused him to kill the thing he loved most with his golden gift. When they found his tomb, there were traces of honey-wine in his feasting cups… even his drink was made of gold, but his legendary power could neither give life nor ward him from death.
The sun too can bring bounty or destruction, but here it brings only life and light. I drink in the morning, tasting sunlight and dew on my lips. That moment outside of time, poised between day and night, I live forever.