Once again, a raven's dawn splits wide open on the distant horizon,
The earth sharply tilting forward, stretching thin the fabric of space;
The brain is rinsed of the night's ragged shapes and vain escapes,
As blazing pinks soak the sky and then melt into a painful tint of gold;
A thought takes hold in the changing flow of the new breaking light--
With each tomorrow curving more sharply back toward the beginning,
With time tricking the senses, folding and refolding back on itself--
The untouched wind and the waves are all that will ever really matter
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my devious mind playing tricks
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