I stood in the riverbed.

Watching the sun rise.

The sound of the birds so simple.

The flicker of feathers and sunlight.

I wept for what seemed the first time.

I held the earth in my hands.

But, now did not feel the need to join it.

Instead I let it drip between my fingers.

And deny the tool of Dusk.

My tears told the tale,

of what lies ahead.

Watching as the sun goes down.

And the day begins.

GRAHAM MURPHY