This is what I've missed for a long time.
No, not her - This,
The Morning Sky.
And unlike us, It hasn't changed.
It is quite a sight, non-discriminating
Same from above as below,
It is a visit to, or from, A Thoughtful Creation.
You can almost hear it speak in the motion of the birds.
I ought to stop and feel it,
But alas! I must be on my way.
Still It does not leave - remains on the East.
One morning, sadly, I shall have succeeded.
Perhaps it is too early to write,
More mornings, more words.
But the raw beauty engulfs me.
My lackings, most definitely offends it.
The Red Rising shoots strays of white lines,
Quite uneven but effectively melodious.
Singing, stretching towards an empty blue.
Majestically, forgiving the laments of the day.
I don't know if an early bed,
And an early rise, makes anything of a man.
But it does make an unrivalled sight.
Blessing both body and soul - It does.
Grey buildings and long roads ahead.
Hopefully, more mornings, better words.
Maybe you and I - as friends, as lovers.
Unchanged as the Morning Sky.
It is not just the Sun.
It is not just the Creations.
It is not just the Silence.
These are different Hours.
No, not her - This,
The Morning Sky.
And unlike us, It hasn't changed.
It is quite a sight, non-discriminating
Same from above as below,
It is a visit to, or from, A Thoughtful Creation.
You can almost hear it speak in the motion of the birds.
I ought to stop and feel it,
But alas! I must be on my way.
Still It does not leave - remains on the East.
One morning, sadly, I shall have succeeded.
Perhaps it is too early to write,
More mornings, more words.
But the raw beauty engulfs me.
My lackings, most definitely offends it.
The Red Rising shoots strays of white lines,
Quite uneven but effectively melodious.
Singing, stretching towards an empty blue.
Majestically, forgiving the laments of the day.
I don't know if an early bed,
And an early rise, makes anything of a man.
But it does make an unrivalled sight.
Blessing both body and soul - It does.
Grey buildings and long roads ahead.
Hopefully, more mornings, better words.
Maybe you and I - as friends, as lovers.
Unchanged as the Morning Sky.
It is not just the Sun.
It is not just the Creations.
It is not just the Silence.
These are different Hours.
