Morning:
Cleared the smoke from my eyes
Roved, through the bleached white halls
In a heavy haze of thought

Morning:
Painted away at first light
At the larks spearing worms
In the aftermath of rain
As coffee, steamed into life

Morning:
Sprung from myself
For the pulsing embrace of the world
With the courage of immortals

Good morning,
If only, it were more than a dream
In some distant year
When I’ve found my stride

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