The sun rises in profile again
To greet me again this morn
My eyes blink open though
Showing my soul as worn
I stagger to my feet
Meandering to the door
My face full of sorrow
And my mind at war
I don’t know what I’m doing
Or why I’ve been doing it
I’ve been lost in the light
Of a dream I have knit
I turn to the window
Lost as to what to do
Suddenly a sound echoes
A melody begins to ensue
The swallows outside
Are welcoming the sun
Singing to their children
And the commuters on the run
I wonder how they find
That they can live the day
When all around seems
To leave me in dismay
But the gentle tones
Seem to me to whisper
“Young child, press on.
The air today is crisper.”
I eagerly take pleasure
In the small joy I found
The birds rescuing me
With their soft, gentle sound
On my day however meager
But one thing I will say
The event for which I am eager
When I come back in the gloaming
Settled in my new delight
Excited for the new day
And the beauty of the coming light
I don't know if I want to open up. In a lot of ways that poem I just wrote tells more than I could with just a simple piece of prose. Basically, I don't know who I can trust anymore, or if I can trust anyone anyway. Maybe it's too hard of a question for anyone to answer, from whatever walk of life they maintain. Maybe it's just time.... for a new day.
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