Good morning

A still, opaque midnight

Undisturbed, sleepy, and without refraction

Until golden tendrils of smoke roll in like billowing clouds

Contrasting against that dark, coffee bean sky                                                                      

 

Only for a fraction of a moment, though,

Does the storm thunder and roar like tumultuous chariots

Racing against Time

 

Light

 

Warm energy freely dispersed that streams

Down one’s throat and makes the body and soul

One

Divine clarity stains the breath of the woken and the clouds are drawn

Revealing the startling sun of a new day

 

And all is still once again

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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