Dawn
In the calm, dark stillness of the morning is where I do my best thinking,
Only rivaled by the calm, dark stillness of the night.
The evening is reflective of a long day of occurrence,
But the morning — the morning heralds new light,
New life, new eyes, new heights.
It’s synthesized the old ways with the new rites,
Rejuvenated notions after a full night’s respite,
Any desperate cleaves or claims to reality cleansed by REM.
I can, breathe again in the early morning.
Feel again in the early morning,
The things I need to feel to get an early going,
Early showing signals of success,
Portends I can pretend are Zen,
I am free again.
Every morning.