It is early and the sun has just begun to break the darkness.
Your first cup of coffee steams half empty as you stare into the morning.
It has been a night of dreams, strange and vivid.
You are unsure. There are things to do. A life to lead.
And you sit on the cusp. On the precipice. Teetering.
You close your eyes and breathe. In. One. Two. Three.
You feel it. God’s breath. Entering. You do not hold it in.
You trust there is another. Out. One. Two. Three. And again.
There is always an again. This is what you have learned.
The world falls apart. And it will. It does. But there is no destruction,
only a re-arranging. A child’s pile of blocks, tossed in a tantrum
then rebuilt. Recreated. A new discovery each time. Each day.
You breathe in. There is God in the air. There is God in you.
You feel the choice in you. Power over the demons, blessed
with the strength to cast them out. Not yours, but a thing breathed in
even as you breathe them out.
The sun cuts into the night. In a moment, the balance changes.
Your life is yours again. You are yourself, complete, calm, and powerful
for another day.
About this poem.
Just another day.