acknowledging that the song enters of its own volition

each morning, as consciousness
filters its way through
the warm sand of sleep,
limbs and torso loosely feeling
sheets’ texture,
the weight of the mattress.
there is an incomparable
experience of both
here-ness and there-ness,
an existence governed by
physical science
– the mechanical snap of an alarm clock,
the rate at which a horn splits the dawn –
and the equal persistance
of sub atomic elasticity
every state refracted
into a book of possibility,
a root system of existance.
several rounds of breath
hold the shimmery flux still
until an acknowledged exhale brings
the full weight of
skull upon pillow
the whisper of a song, it is always a song,
surfacing to wish a good morning.

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