Reaching for Dawn

September 12, 2017

The shades of dawn

falling like colorful feathers

plucked from the sky.

 

Sorrow, a distant friend with

sodden shoulder and sturdy

pose, no longer needed.

 

In hand, a timetable of

misbegotten deeds, to be

dispersed to the four winds.

 

The song was sung long ago.

The echo still remains, of

voices faint and far off.

 

I do not know the words.

 

Climbing the mountain,

altitude unknown, oxygen

thin as a noon shadow.

 

The pinnacle appears.

Breathing in the clouds,

Focus begins to dim.

 

Past fading into the future, as

the dawn now turns pure gold.

The summit is within reach.

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