317 - The sun is blinding when I turn to right

The sun is blinding when I turn to right;
Illuminating, warming, from deep space
Through my window, and so I turn to write,
Unable quite to look it in the face.
The golden dust then truly found its place
On white computer screen and black keyboard,
Spotlit briefly, but shadows now replace
Those glorious dying beams; time to applaud
The end of one more show, its memory stored
In human mind and computer tonight,
Perhaps uselessly, in this crazy race
To gather it all in, for what reward?
Who knows? - but sure as dark replaces light,
Like alchemists, we make pure gold from base.
Wed 18 July 2007