Sun has a very simple sound. But the meaning involved is anything but simple. In a way, it is the center of our solar system, the life-forger, the eternal fire that throws light by sculpts shadows, wakes up mornings, and scorches the afternoons. The life of the Earth is the sun; had there been no sun, there would be a silent ice-rock, moving through the darkness—lifeless, frozen, and forgotten.
Physics aside, this one is pure poetry. It shines in myths as a god, in prayers as hope, in paintings as gold and in lovers' words as warmth. People salute it as the symbol of beginnings, rejoice with it as a witness of harvest, and dread it as a reminder that too much of anything—even light—can burn.
A star in scientific terms, the sun is considered old but young on the timescale of the universe. It generates energy through the nuclear fusion of hydrogen into helium under incredible heat and immense pressure, emitting light that takes eight minutes to reach us. Thus every sunrise we see is the beginning of a story that started millions of years ago in the core of that burning ball.
The sun is always, but always different. Each dawn brings new skies, and each sunset passes in a different goodbye. To live under the sun is to realize that time changes, shadows shift, and life is always moving.
Sun, indeed, is more than the name of a star. It reminds us of light in darkness, warmth in coldness, and of beginnings in endings.