Dawn

By Cliff Lake

 

Dawn

 

Dawn.

Pink hues,

And gathering light,

What is the promise of the new day?

For the earth only spins,

Revealing the sun,

And neither speaks of promise,

Nor much else.

Pretty dawn!

It’s delicate paintbrush colors the airs,

Is that not some assurance of…

Something?

For does not dawn reappear again,

In spite of your worries,

Your troubles, your disasters?

What may that signify?

Anything?

Mayn’t this simply be the dry workings,

Of a universe too large to be affected

By your fanciful inventions?

Or is the skies’ chroma repeated

The pact you seek,

An avowal of the continuation of being,

And of your place here,

In spite of any missteps.

For, dear reader, here you are,

And here I am,

And both of us have strayed beyond our dreams.

That is life,

And this is living,

And here you are.

The tide rolls,

The rain falls,

And the sun sets…

And returns at dawn.

The promise of dawn is simply:

That you may accomplish yourself

The things you wish,

In the day that you have.

You are the promise of the dawn you awake to -

Let the light in.

 

Cliff Lake 5/29/2024

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

Location: Wichita, KS, USA

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