More than the startling light that woke you from sleep,
ink eyes dominate, stare across the border. One thought
from the illuminated bed, in an apartment of understanding,
perfection is the art of being. Neither idle nor
consciously seeking, you warm to reptilian equilibrium,
body toned by ten thousand trips from kitchen to table.
As hard as the journey, you glide past every thankless face,
every kick and punch of outrageous fortune, knowing seldom
does good ever win. Sunshine may disguise loss,
but you accept darkness,
rich as a Raven's iridescence.
Without friend or lover,
you've battled illusion,
sitting upright in the moment,
already past dull brick apartments
and lapis lazuli sky.
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