poetic interlude: dawn

I step onto the rain-soaked patio at sunrise,
cleansed by the courtesy of the clouds.
A single raindrop lands on my nose,
and a prayer comes out like a sigh.

As you can imagine, birds are singing;
as you can imagine, all is quiet except for the beating of my own heart,
as if to say—all is new again,
as if to say—wake up sleeper, arise, 
bear witness to fresh, unsullied time,
to scabs of healing wounds,
to new ways of being, waiting to be discovered by you. 

How worth it it was to lie awake all night.
How curious that I wasn’t afraid.
What an honor it is to be awake, 
to behold this living landscape, 
this blending of sky-colors in real time. 

Now I am singing,
and my heart surprises me with what it loves.
The the sun is rising, 
and I am waiting, listening,
here in this velvety light,
here in this place I call home: 
this apartment and this city, yes, 
but also, this body, this mind, this temple,
this small frame of my flesh, 
bowing and rising at once.

What is man that you are mindful of her? 
Or a sparrow that you lift her up? 

I am but a watcher and a wonderer,
an empty space longing to be filled,
an enraptured mind investigating the world,
listening for clues, 
expectant for more,
drawing the back the curtain for glimpses of the sunrise,
touched by a raindrop on my way.