mornings are
metaphors
though routinized
but each morning
is another
blessing
it is another promise
of life
another assurance
that no matter what
something with
light and warmth
unfolds before
our eyes
wake up then
to a new morning
feel the new skin
spreading to your
body
breathe the new air
and fill your lungs with all
of these
reborn, be reborn
there is no use for anything
dead past us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem