Sunday, March 29, 2015

40. The rising tide of dawn

The rising tide of dawn,
red and raw as bloody Friday,
floods the beginning of day.
Night shrugged off like an overcoat
as time stands still to watch
the unfolding,
listening to the overture
of waking birds.
The revelation begins
with tearful steps
into the assumed,
but unknown;
a journey
the night-dark,
cold-soul, mausoleum.

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