It was nearly morning. The ills

of night slowly pushed aside

for the presence of day.

Sleep and dreams mended

indifferences; the result would

be eye opening.


The laurels of day were yet to be

placed on the shoulders willing to



Time became the perfect order,

like an orchestra blending its

beginning into forming a storm

of music, full of gusts and tributes.


Each day is a new path. A discovery

of words and expressions as day

reacts to the pulling of night and its

shadows just hours away.


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