The Morning Sun
The morning sun dawned through the crack of the blind,
the shifting rays only serving again to remind,
that another night had been spent thinking of the quest,
and my steadfast refusal to settle for second best.
The need that burns like a fire deep within my skin,
and the errant ways that we sometimes follow on whim.
Will today be the day? I ask the sun's piercing ray,
Will today I be done, hope sparked fore the setting sun,
of having found what I seek, or know I not of what I speak?
She will be the world to me,
cherished in every way, you see,
loved in all the roles a woman can take,
careful, lest I her soul and spirit I do rape.
She will live on a pedestal, but at my feet,
again, I ask, is this the day we shall meet?
Does she wake, just as I my sleep do take,
perhaps moving to the opposite cycle,
oh, that would be unrightful...
but life. Hmmm...
DATE: April, 2001