Under The Morning Poem by Midnight Clarity

I walked under the morning,
heading east into the fire
turning shadow to its other side,
a glow that dappled gold
across my shoulder
warming night cooled flesh,
bringing forth the scents of sleep
and yesterday.
I walked alone under the morning
except for rushing birds
all striving to be early,
not seeing me as predator
just busy with their business
with the worms
while tiny flowers stretched
their equivalent of arms
wide open to the benison
of light sliding down
the contours of the valley
turning the hint of morning
into day. I walked because my spirit
is all restless, tied to flesh
and all its failures, the hint
of stagger in its stride
reminding me of my
mortality, the grave truth
that waits somewhere
in my future. Spirit surges
forward seeking fire,
phoenix hungry
for completion,
ashes sweet surrender
to the wonder of rebirth,
flesh does not fail,
just limps a little
under the morning
as I walk.