The Rising Sun

He stood against the horizon,
brilliant as it was,
a silhouette in the light
of the rising sun.

With no place to go,
with nothing to see,
with no one to be,
he was only a silhouette
in the light
of the rising sun.

He had left his home,
walked away alone,
a silhouette in the light
of the rising sun.

He forgot his name,
he forgot his pain,
only to become a silhouette
in the light
of the rising sun.

And to this day,
he roams alone,
brilliant as he was,
a silhouette in the light
of the rising sun.