Its morning

Its morning, when I turn my eye
To where the light folds up the shadows
Over rooftops, as if the shutters rise.
And where the clouds drift aimlessly,
Across the prairie skies.
The planet, turning slowly on its axis.
Spins through the heavens, silently.
As I think about my day, and sip my tea.

And in the world outside,
The sunlight falls upon the chestnut tree,
Its golden syrup mingling with the dew,
Shimmering through the branches and the bough,
And in the dappling light,the day begins anew.

Its morning time as I sip my tea,
When I’m filled with grace.
The earth sails quietly on its way,
Through the cold expanse of space.
Distant oceans of turquoise,
Fall under sunless skies,
And watch the celestial fires flare out,
To greet their own demise.
The stars long dead, are living still,
In distant galaxies,
And store their dreams within the beams,
Of light they send to me.

And in the world outside,
Where the sky is azure blue.
The honey bees are suckling,
On the last of the morning dew.
The birds are chirping noisily,
High up on the chestnut tree,
And the chicks inside the nested eggs,
Are struggling to be free.

Its morning time,
As I put on my shoe,
I think of every lie I heard,
And the ones I thought were true.
The waves of far off seas
Are crashing to the shore,
And the stars that rose at nightfall
Are the lights beneath my door.
I will take a moment,
Before I tie my lace,
To think of the universe
And ponder of my place.
The stars are just the pearls,
That shine beneath the sea.
The moonbeams are the lights,
That guide us to be free.
And as I sit alone,
Sipping on my tea,
I find myself revolving,
As the earth revolves with me.

There are demons in the heavens,
Angels trapped in hell,
And the gods among the stardust,
Just attract us and repel.
The eagles are left swooping,
On the valley floor below.
As the sun reflects the heavens
In its majesty and glow.

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