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.
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