When the sun sets, it bathes the Earth,
Radiance and life are given in accord,
Joy and love is blown like a trumpet
The merriment is admist hustling of the day,
Coos from birds light up ev'ry Chandelier,
Clouds moving in every positive direction,
The men till the Earth for bread,
The women milk the babies for growth,
Till day approaches its end, no rest.
Man must fight for the bread he will eat.
The sun sets, and with it, gloom.
Darkness spirals the Earth taking over,
Burdens from the day are transferred to the night,
Families engage in unity and religion,
Lovers engage in vanity and narcissism.
Tears of blood are spilled into the night.
Wishes like a fog of smoke are lifted to the Stars.
The body weakens, strength is drained.
Milk from mother's breast flows like a stream.
The man is weak from the tilling of the day.
All men must rest one day,
The music of the night will be faced by all.
Man must rest for the bread he has tilled and eaten.
– Tonia John.
