Before the sun rises
Before the rooster crows
Before the dew dries the leafy green
Before the earth sighs away the in-between
The dawn of morning light still struggles of new beginnings of today, of yesterday, of all the tomorrows, but with a present breaking path, I will have no shudders, no shakes; no tremors with lightening bolts of silver, with no piercing arcs of light to hold me back, held high above my head.
A sharper image of present days, of the now, with hopes of returns on the morrow; hold me fast, no sorrow, as the days are just beginning my girl, today we shall win the race of the chosen few; with the gathering speed piercing the air to win, to win, victory becomes a shout, taking the lead without falter of first step, of last, to win the race before time.