Debris fallen down

All these brightly hued, pulpy
sweet smelling fruits
of your verdant tree, that
hung by your
golden branches
fall down
one day
one by one
on earth, or
in bunches
You will be left
with nothing, fruit-full;
to gain you respite
from an unquenchable hunger
A black sun will rise thither
from the darker world somewhere
to photosynthesize
the debris
fallen down

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