As I wake the wind will whisper "Hallelujah!"
The dawn dips in and dusts away the dreams that overthrew ya
The last glimmers of gloam form a foaming chorus of "I wish I knew ya!"
The stoic sun shouts: "A new day is here! So what's it to ya?"
The stars are made of chalk, wiped away by the rags of tomorrow
Returning to real, I am once again myself, piecing in particles
pointillist portrait of my past
emotional tapestry in four-dimensions cannot be viewed in its entirety
but given enough fragments one starts to get a sense of the whole thing
awkward appearances of anger and apathy, frayed decayed forgotten memories
lost moments and lost loves
my entire story unfolds each morning to construct my identity
the deaths of those close hit us the most
beat us about the chest and crown
turn us inside out and upside down
give us scars and broken bones
life's abuses stunt us, each one of us inevitably accident prone
because our souls have chosen these fleshy bodies to call home
so fragile, so susceptible, our shells seem to melt
we are burned, we are ripped open, we are exposed when stones are thrown
i have hunger, and i have pain, i have years of suffering
i have restless hand-me-down dreams,
shallow breaths and tattered seams
i have a certain gleam in my eye at the mention of miracles
When i'm alone i like to play piano and sing spirituals
that remind me of home and of heroes in comic book serials
songs that send me spiraling into scenes of soaring arches and stained-glass canticles
i carry my church & my temple in my dome wherever i go
i say grace with each sincerely generous sentence, i say a prayer with each poem
giving thanks for my morning bread
i scarcely believe i'm not yet dead
i can't remember just what it was my mother said
but the shine in her eyes always helps me realize
that each day is a gift, as well as each meal you are fed
so i give thanks to my father for feeding me and to my mother for growing me
for being so patient in the terribly tricky task of showing me
i thank planet earth for always upholding me
i give gratitude to each one of my friends just for knowing me
because we cannot do this thing alone
it is hard, it is blunt it, it is brutal
it is mutilating, the pain of waiting, our work is never done
on the phone with destiny - a dial tone
what's it matter, we may never know
but the best thing you can do for your health is count your blessings
because... don't the summers blossom and the winters snow?
isn't a breath of fresh air and a sip of cold water refreshing?
isn't it a thrill to exchange smiles because we see our stories meshing?
isn't the sunrise filled with every imaginable color
day after day, coming again to rouse us from our beds
to fill our heads and give us one more chance to get it right?
honey hot damn! ain't it great to be alive?