I roll another cigarette. The sun
is beginning to come up; tiny rays
of hope for another day
as the rest of the world sleeps.
Birds sing softly, songs of joy
and pleasure. I am alone
yet never alone. My world carries me,
the Universe has plans for all of us
and I sip slowly on hot tea
and contemplate its plan for me.
I roll another cigarette
and listen to the world awaken
around me, tiny stirrings of hope
for another day for all of us;
the saved and the damned.
I wonder if each morning I hear
the same birds, if they sing for me -
and feel too self-important, they
sing for anyone with a mind to listen.
We spend too much time not listening.
I roll another cigarette, and filled
with the tiny burgeoning of hope
the knowledge that not all of my days
begin this way, that my mind so quickly
slip-slides from side to side,
becomes untied; but not today.
I want to grasp this day, this peace
and imprint it on my mind, sear it
into place like a brand, a tattoo
of joy and peacefulness on my heart.
I roll one last cigarette; this moment
must end eventually, but never permanently
there will be another morning eternally
with tiny birdsong and tiny rays of hope
to lift my spirit to the Universe
ready for the next day, and the next
and the next. I am thankful for the time
I have been given to appreciate today.
Today will be a good day, with joyful heart
and upheld hands, I greet the dawn.