I shift my position
To get my third person eyes
In the path of the fourth person object
That rules my life
The sun
The original Egyptian god
Shining to blindness
Burning to crispness
Heating to delirium
I make a baby sun
When fire's alight
Not quite fusion
But bright and warm
Nonetheless
No substitute however
For the real McCoy
For the star we revolve
All intents and purposes
The center
Sunglasses defer
The screen protects
The sleeves defy
Houseplants may evade
But they yet require
No buts allowed
The coffee roasted
In fires of man
Yet always grown
Those tiny pupils
In full view of Ra
Roman Ryan 