Ode to the Sun, Who Thinks it Knows

So there it is again, that ball of overly-self-satisfied fire,
floating up there with the kind of smugness
only something that’s been around for billions of years can pull off.
It’s like—
okay, we get it, you’re the center of attention,
but do you have to burn us so relentlessly,
like some goddamn cosmic influencer,
posting pics of your solar flares
and charging the atmosphere with all your superheated opinions,
as if the world needs you,
as if we haven’t figured out—
a little too late, of course—
that the best part of your whole big charade
is that you’ll one day just disappear,
blow out like a sick joke,
and we’ll be left with nothing but cold, cold dark,
as if it were our fault,
for getting too comfortable in the light.

It’s almost cute,
the way you still think we’re all totally enthralled by your “rise and shine” routine.
Like, oh great, here we go again—
the slow, inevitable creeping of the hours,
each one bending toward the light
until you’ve scorched the earth,
and no one has the heart to tell you
that it’s really just another day
of you being the loudest, least self-aware entity
in the solar system.
And look at us! We’re all scrambling,
all of us, trying to get our skin to stop reacting to you,
while you just sit there—
too bright, too omnipotent,
too much.

You, who are supposedly the “life-giver,”
who spreads all this vitality around like some
hyperactive seminar leader.
Sure, we need you, but don’t you dare think
that gives you permission to send your rays
down like judgment, like “this is what you deserve.”
Some of us would prefer a little more nuance,
a little less incessant blinding.
But no,
you can’t help yourself. You just shine—
until we all cook.

And yeah, maybe we are fragile,
but is that any excuse to remind us every day
that we’re tiny, vulnerable specks in this
gigantic fireball’s drama,
in its ego-bloated monologue
of endless daylight?

Oh, great orb in the sky,
You think you’re all that — so high, so bright,
With your blinding, self-righteous light,
Washing the world in your scalding might.

We get it. You're the sun.
You're the center of this whole show.
But must you act like we’re all too stupid
to know it?

GPT