New Day

    I have been re-reading Walden lately, and one of the many thing that Thoreau writes about that I have always related to is the sacredness and importance of the morning. The mornings, after a cup of coffee and some time in the bathroom, are always when I feel my best and most productive. The day is new and untarnished, an eternal source of vitality and renewal that shines into our windows each morning.  In the "Where I Lived and What I Lived For" chapter of the book, Thoreau writes:

"The morning, which is the most memorable season of the day, is the awakening hour. Then there is the least somnolence in us; and for an hour at least, some part of us awakes which slumbers all the rest of the day night. Little is to be expected of that day, if it can be called a day, to which we are not awakened by our Genius, but by the mechanical nudgings of some servitor, are not awakened by our newly acquired force and aspirations from within, accompanied by the undulations of celestial music, instead of factory bells...Every man is tasked to make his life worthy of the contemplation of this most elevated and critical hour."

Good advice, well expressed.   I have a little morning poem that I wrote shortly before I read this, so I figured  I would share it.

NEW DAY

Red cup
red lighter
red blanket on my lap
rain in the Sunset
running to the sea

Light from the overcast skies
fills my south facing apartment
South, where my heart lies

I pour a third cup of coffee,
my head still swimming from sleep
The sun shyly slides from behind a cloud
the air here is mild, salty and sweet

I want to release from these city streets
I long to see the stars again
to wander through the trees

Nature is beautiful because it is real
only whats real can approach beauty

We worship the fake:
fake fame, fake money, fake titties
fake TV "Reality" stars

We wonder bars and poison our bodies
trying to turn off the real
Don't think, don't feel,
grasp desperately at shadows and flashing lights

Red Light.

Stop. Think. Breathe.
This is a collective dream.
Lets gaze upon the truth
a new day arrives-look, unafraid
fiery red on all its glory.