sunrise: morning glory eyes
open, like petals unfolding
to welcome the dawn of a new day.

still half-asleep, my mind flashes
fragmentary wire reports of
yesterday's news,
today's news, and
tomorrow's news;
but no news is good news,
and a thousand times a thousand
unfulfilled desires, although nothing new,
are not particularly good, either.

yet one lives in hope of fulfilling them all,
these desires without discernible end,
desires perceived as needs, albeit cultivated needs,
heavily, deeply, passionately cultivated needs:

the need for boundaries, and the need for space;
the need for control, and the need for limitless freedom;
the need for preoccupation, and the need for more time;
the need for self-expression, and the need for exclusion;
the need for love, the need for confrontation, and
the need for indifference; the need for independence,
and the need for tightly-scripted lives; the need that is

night approaches;
hope disappears with the setting sun.
blue petals close; brown eyes close.
sleep comes, begets dreams, and
prepares news reports;
hope slips beneath the pillow
and lies awake, awaiting the dawn;
for tomorrow is another day.

© 2000 by Metta Jon Maslow (10/16/2000)

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