Monday, October 18, 2004


I stopped my read this morning on the train,
My mind a wistful semblance of rational,
Through the glass I did stare,
To sky, a light, with fire,
The sun did burn the night away,
The clouds all pink and purple,
It is strange I thought to think and stare,
And beauty so natural and true,
If each morning we all did ponder,
Would each day we sunder the world in two?
I cannot stop this muse that has me,
Her heavenly beauty abounds,
Last lingers the night,
So still and cool,
While fire licks its breath away,
Such is how each morning starts,
And such is how it ends.

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