Before the sun peaks through the sky
Lighting all the things I wish to hide
Before the early birds rise
There is a tranquility
The silence is eerie
Calmness settles over me
I find peace and acceptance
Within my incongruity

The uproar in my mind
Is temporary replaced with feelings so sublime
I feel my body glide
Levitate to meet the sunrise
I have no need for explanations
or external reassurance
When kindness lies within my own eyes

Walking down the dirt roads of this ghost town
I think of the rarity of this complacency
My eyes are no longer crusted shut
I feel no need to reflect or recollect
I merely observe the beauty
Enjoy the present unfold before me
And wish for the apocalypse to come
To make this absence of human activity a permanent reality

I cherish the foiling of connectedness and singularity
Alone but always together
The wildlife waking in the cheatgrass
soothes me into serenity
reassuring me that the sounds of consciousness
will not affect this new-found levity
I come to accept the ticking of time
And I radiate optimism and readiness for the day

I wait for the bus with patience in place of anticipation
I love driving through town
relying on others to get around
As long as I am not the one in control
I am comfortable being lost and directionless
I enjoy the distraction of the passing landscape
It seems too immense to be
a manifestation of my imagination
The way it removes me from my sad body
Into something much more than me
The beauty of the world is limitless
It envelopes me
Sending me to equivocal destinations

I feel this weightlessness become a headache
And soon I come back into my body
And into the thoughts and obligations I try to avoid
Fearing that this moment of happiness
Is slipping from my reality
I try to find some peace of mind
but I have no motivation to fight for an illusion
I return to my old darkness
Avoiding the light and the images it shows

With no basis for its existence
I begin to see all displays of optimism
as noxious naivety
promising but never quite what it seems
when it comes to me
It's always superfical and fleeting
Like the affection of my mistress
It is devoid of any true meaning