The day the sun stood still.

Sitting in my lonely room, I can't help but try to contemplate the spectacular wonders of the universe. "It's just a ball of light on earth, nothing more," I keep repeating to myself, staring at the sun through the tinted window.
"I have to find some meaning to all of this. Why am I here? How can there be so many pessimistic prophets when I see miracles everyday? The sun still rises every time they predict the world is coming to an end. Are the prophets all crazy, or are they like me, searching for answers?"
In deep thought, I fix my eyes on the large ball of light that does not move, it's the sun. Focusing on the rays of light, my radio alarm then goes off, I begin to vibe with the words of a dead poet playing through the speakers. I become distracted so I take a seat and listen to the pain flowing with the digital instruments. As the tune plays, I ponder on his every thought.
"I wonder what he saw while writing the lyrics?"
Getting sidetracked, I rush to turn off the alarm. Turning to go back to the window, I see a rope tied around two pieces of wood on the floor. The wood is crossed, realizing my fate, the wind blows through the cracked tinted window. I slowly walk over to the window and notice a bunch of stargazers and wise men pointing to the sky. The day seems long. My heart skips a beat.
"I'm losing my mind, I must be dreaming," I say falling to the floor.
When I awake, I soon notice that I've slept for too long so I just lay there looking at the ceiling. The sun is still in the sky. I get up and rush to the window, it's like I'm going in circles, my mind is but a small piece of this masterpiece. In my obsessive thoughts I yearn to figure out why I'm here. I start to drift... 
"Deities enter through the wombs of saints and demons enter through the mind."
My focus has to remain clear, I can figure this out.
"Is death the only way out of this world? When my soul leaves, will I too, go to the source? Does the intellectual still think like animals? I guess I've been born again. I know for a fact that I've been here before. Who thought of this universe? Why am I here?"
Looking out of the cracked window I feel the wind blow again, I can hear a lamb in the distance. Time keeps ticking while my thoughts soon turn into a universe of ideas. I start to feel like a raging lion slowly turning into a madman searching for answers. The feathers of supreme angelic like creatures point to an infinite place through the glass. In amazement, I look up at the sky. I notice that the sun has not moved, and it's been three days.
"When will this be over? Why can't I figure this out? We enter this world through the womb of a female searching for a place to call home on earth and the voices of Gods can only be heard when we listen. One God. One leader. One source. Maybe if I listen and close my eyes, God will give me the answers, but I'm so tired that I may be tempted to fall asleep again. Where do I go when I fall to sleep? Do I go back where I came from? Is this like atoms borrowing atoms? Why am I here?"
In my wondering mind I sit and stare at the sun through the tinted glass. It doesn't move it just sits there in the heavens. It's in the sky and just like the moon, it's there to guide me through the darkness. I'm so tired, but I must not rest until I find the answers to this equation. I ponder on my final thought while drawing on the window, drawing like words written on thin sheets of wood. I draw hoping someone will find my math equation to this miracle, like scrolls found in lost caves if I don't make it. My imagination has reached its limit, similar to leaves falling from a tree. I then notice my reflection in the glass. There's no way for me to know everything so I leave the window and give-up trying.
"It is what it is..." I say, closing the room door. I then drink the last cup of water and I'm left in contempt of my own fate. I am but a man in a big universe and I too must wither away like the sun. I turn to my journal and write down these last words: "This is the day the sun stood still."