Under the rising sun
I know it’s my turn
It rained heavily, I concluded, it’s my turn
Indeed I was rejected, disconsolate, and frustrated,
“It’s my turn,” I said
The rising sun is speaking to unknown future,
husband to someone’s success and
wife to related destiny, it’s my turn.
If I will be a star, I will choose to shine like a rising sun
Landing to the nomenclature of my being,
Bureaucratically siding the world of my government,
I believe in my futurecracy, where there’s no kanzu,
where there’s limited delay for exploitation;
The rising sun can inspire but never expire;
But for admires who censure incandescence fire
from the sun layer;
Offers nothing good at sunshine but at darkness rises.
It dawned on me, the rising sun sway the nut on my head.
And I got inspired to author the book
Eclipse of the Sun, for it will shine in the eclipse of the poor
I must shine, far brighter than rising sun
My destiny sworn to His Creator