Thursday, October 9, 2025

Waiting for Sunrise

Strange how the night breathes deep

This poetry,

How this evenness of breath is found

In the strangest faraway countries

Of the mind.

Here where my body lies 

Something other than thought

Now runs through my brain,

A long hall filled with shadows

And murmurs—the unintelligible wisdom

Of a forgotten dream.

Time permits that nothing be fully seen

Except light and darkness.

But I will strain my eye toward the horizon, 

Where the trees will soon turn green

And the sky turn the color of light

Hitting infinite space. 



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