Eyes are open while the mind has yet to fully awaken.

This body moves about its path with routine without intention.

Lights are still bright while darkness looms without night.

Even the stars are a haze as I gaze upon them.

Each breath goes a bit deeper attempting to rev the engine

that still runs cold; pumping fuel through as instructed.

Above lies skin with bold scars that re-enact my story.

These words are but company for independent illustrations

of forgiven wrongs.

They are the mending of those mistakes and the reflections

of their lessons; the wisdom that stems from realized ignorance.

It always begins this way. I don’t say anything, out loud.

Just thinking, contemplating, the unique repetition of each morning.