While Morning Awakens

When in the crisp of a fall morning,

the scent of burning leaves nearby

we might acknowledge own mourning

passage, our yearn of a seasonal sky


Our lives in a constant profiled balance

we cannot forget our own human being

exists in realistic terms, not just chance,

that our encounters have little meaning.


Much like the rotation of our morning sun

can we establish some new momentum

one that peace and love to speak upon

with little regard for hyppocratic ultimatum


Would we be the same today as yesterday

might now we choose to live another way.


Please I would love you to share words, suggestions ...

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