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Dawning


A creeping light unfolds around

my muzzy mind, more sombre thought,

as if true insight wakens me.

No herald chorus from the skies,

no tweets or hedging from the box,

nor twitch or twitter, flash mob chat,

winged messengers, angelic chants;

the only arch, zygoma bone.

And yet it’s as somnambulant

has stirred to this, first day begun.

It’s eyes, the focus of that change,

source and well-being of fresh stream,

both inward, yet too pupils learn,

new orbit in this spinning world,

as dawn, another, solar space,

says earth keeps wheeling on its way.

My dawning, born in darkest hours,

beyond ellipse of planet play

was awesome trust against the grain;

a rising from the dead of night,

dashed dreams turned nightmare, rolled away,

the bedrock, love’s eternal sway.

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1 Comment


Unknown member
Jun 06, 2023

Worth the read (and the dash to the dictionary for Zygoma definition) A real "awakening" poem

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