Why the sun should be so concerned about a dot in its field of shine and whether clouds cover its line of sight to the solar panels that worship it or the panel constructors that love it is beyond me, but I remind myself that the clouds, too, are part of the family of engines that are friends with the sun.
Now the clouds are rolling over the trees across the field, and these are the darker clouds. They bring rain as if they are trying to bring the ocean to me as I can't be with the ocean. I take it the sun wants me to be happy.
Nor am I the first person to be partially entranced by solar worship, understandably. When a beyond-conceptionly huge sphere of fire in the sky speaks, you listen.
So what is sun-music (solarsound)?
... usually you're too bright anyway. My sunglasses are not false idols, but rather a concordance, a bishop, turning my back to you on the top of Mt. Sinai.
To be honest with everyone, though, I side with Selene just as often, perhaps the antichrist, more likely just another human trapped in the heavens in the rocket ship of mythology.
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