There is a song within him, a noise

familiar, a wakeup into day, an appetite

for good to happen.


The floor challenges his feet. Gravity

pulls at him, creating an in-between where

he operates within common boundaries.


Within the season of years, and unexplained,

the joy of morning remains in yesterday,

reviling and mocking the emptiness

washed onto his shore.


Yet…there is a watchtower he turns to.

The inner room reserved for earnestness,

guidance and the will to do right. A

place waiting for the voice of his prayers.


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