I believe in the sun, even when it is not shining.
I believe in love, even when I do not feel it.
I believe in God, even when He is silent.
(These lines were found scrawled on a cellar wall in Cologne, which was
destroyed by bombing in WWII.)
-Author Unknown

Keep your faith in all beautiful things; in the sun when it is hidden, in
the spring when it is gone.
-Roy R. Gilson

In the first bright, gleaming lights of morning,
The Sun, a glowing amber orb, rubs her sleepy, drowsy eyes
And joyfully, heartily sings
Her song of life high up in the vast blue sky.

Before her, the seagulls spread their alabaster wings wide,
Caressing the stormy, turbulent sea and rising as a crest,
Soaring, diving and gliding with immense pride,
In their snowy white feathered breasts.

The high, ebony cliffs sway to their rhapsody,
Ancient trees on the sloping lands sway in harmony,
Humming a sweet, soothing melody
As the flowers are swept up in a dream of such euphony.

The blossoms strike up a symphony
With the sunflower at the head,
While the Sun gazes from her balcony,
Admiring their thousand hues of blue, yellow and red.

And in the evening, the Sun, like a round pomelo
Of rosy pinks and shadowy royal purples of a queen
Descends into the foamy, thrashing waves below,
Of cerulean blue and emerald green.

Smiling at the pale gleam of lights on the waters of the bay,
The Sun rests in the shadowy, midnight blue sky
As the Milky Way and constellations serenade her daily birthday,
Glowing in the dark expanse of sapphire high.