its old song grinding against my wish
(becomes a prayer)
for more sleep instead.
but i cannot sleep in today - not today!
my calendar is filled with
the self-important things that fill calendars;
things that define the part of our lives
that both separate us from what we would be,
and allow us the chance
to become what we already are.
i do not welcome the new dawn
but grudgingly accept it.
its old song grinding out another day
as i wait for tomorrow.
12/12/1993
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