Hyperion

He reached for the sun, but faltered.
It was something he had always wanted, yes.
It was in his grasp.
It was so close.
But he couldn't touch it;
The streams of light slipped through his fingers.
Hyperion and the Sun were one in the same-
Shining, beckoning the day to break over the mossy highland fields.
The carrier of light, the courier of the Sun's rays, could not collect them any longer.
Perhaps it was his own vainglorious pursuits of being the largest and the brightest.
Perhaps it was his love, his Marrilee, lost to the Windsinger's service.
Perhaps it was the Sun's infinity stifling his vanity, sorting him into place as simply its servant.
Hyperion reached again, and through his claws slipped the dying rays of day.
The Clan would have to remain dark and cold, without the pure sunlight to warm the nests of its dragons, if only for one more day.