Query

Where does the sun go after we sleep?
To places profound, in realms that are deep.

Pure light in the sky
makes everything bright,
present every morning,
a shadow at night.

Where does the moon go after we wake?
To magical lands, where dreams are not fake.

By comforting darkness,
each visit disguised,
an essence so pure,
an aura so prized.

Where does our soul go after we die?
To places beyond a wink and a sigh.

The ether awaits,
where wishes are made,
all wants can come true,
sad memories fade.

– Grace Y. Estevez-Reddy

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