Have you ever watched the morning grow

From total darkness, no light to show

The bare outlines, which are around

that slowly merge into profound

Shapes and forms, no details yet,

just subtle hints that you regret

not having them remain?

The Hills & Plains, Oh my!

To travel ‘cross

This desert plain,

While heat is bearing down

Naught for miles

But shadow’s stain,

No water to be found.

‘Til we see a glistening sea

Just barely up ahead

Let’s hurry, I beseeched

For thirst doeth abound,

But no matter the hurried speed,

Or the distance we would go,

that sea would ne’er be reached,

a truth filled with woe.

As iced-rain pelted against darkened glassed pane,

scarcely preparing minds-eye for morning’s sight,

as creaks, snaps, cracklings rent the consciousness

to envision the fractured members of stately timbers;

the morning’s find only half predicted.

The Sun-Moon.

Gallant in its watch,

Brightly shines

Over Shadow’s edge.

We need to communicate, we say.

It’s a vital part of our being, our growing,

Of being one, yet two,

Of knowing how much there is to love,

And loving what is there.