The sinking sun was the last event of the day.
The morning would begin with happy children.
Their bright faces fill the city.
They know their purpose and their destiny.
The rising sun seemed like the one before.
A reddish hue and a glorious sky of birds.
Each event stands alone as it repeats.
They are marking the new day.
The children remember days of long ago.
They have inherited a world full of light.
Hope has defeated the darkness.
They don’t expect an end to come soon.
These times are a permanent beginning.
William Wayne Smith
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