It's rising of dawn in splendor
robbed by the harsh sunlight of high noon,
the symphony of the morning bird;
long forgotten by mid-day hustle and bustle
the sun now cast long shadows upon drab tenements
and humanity at its worst[morning birds have sought refuge]
hiding in the highest trees -their song long ago stilled
by the chaos below-their voices choked out,
exhaust and pollution, poisonous elixir of mankind.
Tired grew the day that started in such beauty;
[tranquility of early mourn] serenity interrupted,
impatiently it waited for dusk, the forgiving obscurity
night time shadows that soften-garish light of the day;
and the milky white moon and a thousand stars illuminate
a world of illusions below-all is not what it seems to be;
tenderly they touched in passing [when the day met the night]
each knowing that they could not co-exist,
yet separately they belonged together;
for the world must turn in circles and cycles
and where there is light there will be dark,
until once again dark makes way for the light of Dawn;
for the fresh dew upon grass and the chirp of the morning bird of song.
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