An Eternal Sunrise


The sunrise is eternal.
Our measured days are not.
Yet still, somehow, in this moment now
I am lifted beyond mortality;
baptized by this burnished dawn
and set afire with daring possibility.

All too soon, the damp, cold earth
will grip us by the ankle
and pull us downward.

This morning is not that day.

Heaven ascends before my eyes
kissed by the reflection of amber rays;
my heartbeat echoing the foaming surf
while prayers dance among the murmuration
of winged clouds in dawn’s soft pastel light.

The world spins round.

This is my temple,
and my soul, shrouded in the rolling fog
of a new day, now lifted by salted winds.

I slip the bonds of my earthly servitude
and ascend upon the gilded rays of a new day –
lifted gently like a newborn in its mothers warm embrace.


The morning rises. Fingers of sunlight
Caress the sleep from my eyes; dew
Trickles on the windowpane, and beyond
A new day stretches awake. Stirring slowly,
As though each movement would shatter
The world, I slowly pull my feet from beneath
The woolen blanket and gently test the cold
Floorboards of possibility. I trip.