thoughts fall into a mental abyss like dead leaves,
dropping onto the ground after a southern fall harvest,
mornings have always lived in the night's imagination
until they are released to the early risers who
cannot sleep or have had too much of it;
mornings open the door to new opportunities
fueled by the energies of breakfast and dissipate
throughout the day as reality blends and entertwines
with those forces that move counter-clockwise...
dreams become the chores of tasks that muct be
accomplished before the setting sun... and, for an
idealist who likes a jury of their peers, has no
reasonable doubts... life can be narratively
troublesome and formiddable... mornings take root
in our mental basements moving upward as the light
progresses from one side of the imagination to the
other, never retreacing its own footprints in the life
that has been given to us although it may replay a few...
a deja vu for the soul... mornings are always rather
approachable for me when it is only me and the
atmosphere of light that has not yet arrived... yet,
there is a little hint of enlightenment that is shared
with me befofre it makes its first appearance.
9 October 2021
No comments:
Post a Comment