The Duel of Dusk and Dawn

At the world’s edge, where shadows meet,
Two wizards face, no retreat.
Cloaked in power, with wands held high,
They summon magic to darken the sky.

One conjures light, pure as gold,
A blinding force, strong and bold.
The other, shadows deep as night,
Swirls of darkness blotting sight.

A clash of wills, an endless fight,
One seeks day, the other night.
They strike, they weave, their spells entwined,
Locked in a duel that suspends all time.

The skies themselves begin to bend,
Light and shadow twist and blend.
With each new spell, the heavens turn,
Stars flicker, suns slowly burn.

Yet no defeat, no victory won,
The duel continues, never done.
For neither wizard gives the ground,
A cycle bound, round and round.

But look again—no men stand tall,
No wands raised high, no battle calls.
For this is not the fight of men,
But of forces far beyond their ken.

It’s the meeting of dawn’s first light,
And dusk’s soft kiss of approaching night.
An ageless dance, both fierce and still,
As night and day contest their will.

No winner here, no final blow,
Just the endless ebb and flow.
So when you see the fading sun,
Or morning’s light, know the duel’s begun.

In every rise, in every fall,
Dusk and dawn—they heed the call.

2