Awake

Awake

In the quiet hush before dawn’s first light,
I sit with mind unbound, a soft vibration,
The air cool, the subtle echo of a distant rapture,
A world unwrapped in colour, sharp and hopeful,
I am awake, and the world feels mine to own.

Stitches of possibility cling to the edges of the day,
Each breath a pulse, a quiet drum beneath the skin;
I look out, and the dark‑murmur of the night recedes,
Silence no longer a blanket but a silken thread,
Invisible yet led by my own unhurried rhythm.

I raise my gaze above the rooftops, where lorries hum,
The city’s heart beats in measured traffic stripes,
And I find peace in the chaos, in the rising hum,
Could you ever breathe without the breath of sunrise,
Awake, I stand — a presence in the flow of living.