The Argument Between Sunrise and Sunset

From ancient dawn, and even older dusk, 

Two spirits rise, beyond the morning's hushed 

And evening's quiet, where the day declines, 

Two ancient artists, painting their designs. 

I am the Sunrise, vibrant, fresh, and bold, 

A youthful spirit, with a story to unfold. 

"Behold!" I cry, "My burst of golden light! 

I chase the shadows, banish endless night. 

I stir the world, with optimism's gleam, 

Awaken life, from slumber's hazy dream. 

My promise whispered, on the cooling air, 

Of fresh beginnings, free from doubt and care!"

Then, slow and wise, with hues of burning fire, 

The Sunset speaks, to quell my youthful ire. 

"And I," she sighs, "The painter of farewells, 

Whose gentle artistry, forever swells. 

I bring the calm, the peace, the day's soft end, 

Where weary souls find solace, and transcend. 

My colors deepen, thoughtful, rich, and vast, 

A contemplative beauty, built to last. 

I cradle secrets, in my fading light, 

And lead the quiet journey into night. 

What youthful brashness dares to claim such grace, 

As moments ending, finding their true place?"

And so it goes, this timeless, silent fray, 

Across the canvas of each passing day. 

I paint with hope, a vibrant, rising hand, 

She draws with wisdom, over every land. 

The world our stage, where each would make their plea, 

Which holds more beauty, significance, for thee? 

I bid the sleeping earth to rise and soar, 

She bids the conscious world to dream once more. 

An endless cycle, never truly won, 

A silent argument, beneath the moon and sun.

- Khushi Kaul