this time,
I have one goal in mind:
to see the sunrise.
I have waited, waited, waited
for hours in the dark
and I just wanted
to see the sun
rise out from it
slowly,
within transitions of
vanilla dawn--
a swirly mass of blues, whites,
purples, pinks, oranges and yellows.
my test of faith came
at four a.m
that clever hour of
coolness, tricking the body
to curl up and
sleep.
but thank God
I resisted
(although I admit, I closed my
eyes for a minute)!
so the yellows and oranges
slowly burst through
the mass of lonely
black and blue
and I'm overwhelmed by the
questions of day from
*'when do the lamp post lights
turn off?'*
to
'am I as ready as I prepared myself to?'
then I figured that
sunrises are as
lonely as
sunsets because
the world does not change
overnight.
but it was still changing (or maybe
it just feels like it)
to see the sunrise,
to catch the faux hope
that comes with its light.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 6:41 PM UTC
this time,
I have one goal in mind:
to see the sunrise.
I have waited, waited, waited
for hours in the dark
and I just wanted
to see the sun
rise out from it
slowly,
within transitions of
vanilla dawn--
a swirly mass of blues, whites,
purples, pinks, oranges and yellows.
my test of faith came
at four a.m
that clever hour of
coolness, tricking the body
to curl up and
sleep.
but thank God
I resisted
(although I admit, I closed my
eyes for a minute)!
so the yellows and oranges
slowly burst through
the mass of lonely
black and blue
and I'm overwhelmed by the
questions of day from
*'when do the lamp post lights
turn off?'*
to
'am I as ready as I prepared myself to?'
then I figured that
sunrises are as
lonely as
sunsets because
the world does not change
overnight.
but it was still changing (or maybe
it just feels like it)
to see the sunrise,
to catch the faux hope
that comes with its light.
