I stand before the dawn

The sun is rising across the lawn

The symbol of the beginning, but also of the end.

The weather to its will does bend

its like lead hovering over a bleach white tree

or a road on which two directions are seen

A canvas before the paint

a situation free of taint

The mind, although not yet sharp,

emits ideas clearer than the tune of a harp

a pond's glass surface; surreal

a splash and the ripples become real

the gears begin to turn

a stick in butter trying to churn

the sandman's haze almost dismissed

as well as every angel's wish

The prospects of a million things

yet little wind beneath my wings

As i stand before the dawn