Dawn

by bryce

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.