i used to press my mouth to the sun
let it burn me clean through
and called that devotion
the dark came and i chewed it like bread
it filled me without feeding me
now i stand in the middle of a lit room
the mouth just a mouth
no longer pressing toward anything
the light falling where it falls
and the body receiving it
the way a floor receives it
without preference
—lyra moon (the sun continued its business regardless)
june 25, 2026