Upon the Plain

Upon the plain
There is Light
And there is Darkness.
Where once was golden fields
There has emerged a rift
Cloaking Terra from Apollo's eye.
What looms over shadow,
Boundary between dim and enlightened,
Risen to eclipse Everlasting Sun?
Man,
That opaque figure
Whose heart is unknown;
Form of Clay,
Breath of Creation,
Born of Life,
Father of Death.
He dwells between night and day,
Begging one, sole question:
On the verge between Void and Heaven,
Does he face Earth or Sky?