Sometimes I look in the mirror and cannot define myself
what are my morals, what are the rules to govern
I am in the peak of discern, noticeably keeping up with charade
I am yet to be sure, what is my role to begin with
who do I play today, the actor with grace
and imposter weighs, this place is a fantasy
I decay, in the body given to me, there is no gameplay
I live and believe, everything anyone says

This moves me so deeply:
   a flight of birds on wing
   across a clear blue sky
   at the first flush of morning

  or upon the in-setting
  of a soft tender evening
  as through my window, watching
  my poem in completing

  with the last lines impending  
  in beauty enriching -
  time I forget, lost in reverie
  with my heart in throbbing

as for my love I'm waiting-
hush, I'm wondering
where the birds are heading
and feeling they and I are in happiness-sharing

Mornings are a sacred time
For me.
It's the time I'm most vulnerable
Raw and rare
It’s the time I seek God
And speak to Him face-to-face.
It's the time when I hold His hand
And He leads me back
To the Garden
Free to be seen.