Awakening Perpetually
by Odin Roark

Awakening perpetually knows well
Perfection’s tuning fork disquietude,
Its awareness that any off-key meandering
Can cloud over a caressing sunshine rising,
Sour a dawning’s gardenia fragrance.

One reaches skyward with morning’s extension,
The opening of shuddered windows,
Inviting breezes to find purpose
Among slumber’s expended air,
The body’s unwearied resilience.

About the room
Timeless ghosts bow heads and implore with stretched arms,
Aroused by their history’s carillon, matins and lauds,
Even as cobblestone passage below traffics today’s gluttonous appetite,
Fulfilling its locust-like consumption,
Unabated by cacophony’s garrulous conceit
Propelling a different consciousness
Self-destructing by tourismic mayhem.

But…

To step forward and lean on man’s balcony of hope,
Is to lift weary eyes above the clutter below
Onto rising light’s warm-colored horizon,
To give one’s tuning fork its earned reward,
The sense of harmony and melody
Being born of another day.

Such is the embrace of dawn’s meaning,
The anticipation of canvas to paint,
Verses to write,
Preludes to compose.

For lest we forget,
Awakening remains perpetual,
Whether for man, creature, seedling or flower.
It asks only to be honored.