The colors in between

The sun descends beneath a curtain of colors,
burning its way to another place,
leaving behind a slowly fading fire in the sky.
Darkness settles, warning people:
Without light there is no warmth, no community. 

Hell must be like night,

without a sun. 
No tapestries arrayed with yellow, red, blue,
and all the colors in between.
No kindness from others, no shining smiles,
no summer days outside, with lemonade.
At best, a gray sky,
a desire to see the rising of the sun,
an eternal desire to escape despair.
 
The sun comes back, heralded by gold, and crimson,
rising like a flame to engulf the land. 
Darkness flees across the expanse, faster than it had settled.
Victory is declared, and it is day once more,
as the furious fire climbs higher in the sky.

Heaven must be like daytime,

always warm, with a shining sun,
nothing left untouched by the radiance.
The sun will never rise,
for he has already risen.
And never set,
for he will never leave.
The colors in between will be ushers no longer,
signaling the end of one day, and the beginning of the next.
They will be the bride herself,
dressed in a scarlet robe, and a golden crown,
wrapped in a purple sash- the paintings of a princess.
No more beginnings and ends,
we will be satisfied, dancing, in the eternal light.