sunrise

Breathe. Breathe.


I want it to be a quiet morning
where I can hear gentle waves lapping against the shore
where white foam is
appearing and disappearing into the soft rough sand
where the water ebbs and flows back out to sea.
If you concentrate on one wave,
you can see it slowly making its way out to the horizon,
and before it feels like any time has passed at all,
you lose the one wave among the many
and it is once again a part of everything.
I want it to be a quiet morning
where the rosy fingertips of aurora
stretch across the pale sky
which is not yet defined by either morning or night
where the holes in the sky have already disappeared,
so the chances of gazing into worlds beyond is slim, but
where the white sliver of moon is still visible.
If you just glance up into the sky
you'll miss it
but gaze a little longer, and you'll find it.
It is so quiet, and yet,
there are so many sounds.
So many songs that i never hear,
that I never take the time to listen to.
I'm afraid to breathe for fear that I'll interupt
the magic that's moving all around me.
But i breathe anyway.
I breathe the magic in, and
I can feel it begin to pulse in
slow waves through me,
lapping through my nose and mouth,
to my lungs,
in my blood,
ebbing and flowing through all parts of me
and then back out again.
I feel like I'm the only person in the world.
Like everyone is dreaming
and I'm the only one who's woken up so far.

All I want to do is run around and
wake them up
so that they can
see what I'm seeing and so that they can
know what I know and so that we can
share what we think.
But first I pause:
the world has just told me a secret,
and for a moment,
I need to revel in the feeling of knowing
something that no one else knows.
I
thank the sunrise
and fill my lungs with the
cool, fresh,
magical morning air.

Let the new day dawn.