A NEW DAY
Day has come again
and dark is done.
White clouds
in tendril
scud
a sky
of unseen stars
since Papa Sun
has waved his wan.
Morning birds
blossom
on leafless limbs,
and you
are moving
many miles an hour
without
a sense of motion.
Open your eyes,
your inner eyes:
truth is a toy
hiding in your playpen.
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