Its darker this morning.
The sun takes its time
maybe its a sign,
a coin
spinning on its edge.

One step from a dream
and the sun is up
- bright flash, eye caught
dropping its guard -
and opening
...blink.

Across the globe
retinas respond
automatically to the light
drinking in dawn's colours.
A penalty for consciousness
forfeited in time
while all the catching up
preceeds the day
with proof of other worlds.

Pathways broken by sleep and night
are more than just a dream,
they are a conscious flow of liquid air
from birthplace to deathbed
across the changing landscape
where stick figures stumble.

A cumbersome enigma
as brave as your enemy
as loving as your friend
as welcome as a stranger
as remembered as a ghost:

Its always 8 oclock somewhere,
as if time stood still,
and morning never changed
only thawed each day and rose,
a revolution that never stops
starting from scratch.

13/12/01