Poor is the morning
as it breaks through darkness
opening its eyes to gathering light
not bound by space or time
Poor is the morning
in failure and loss
caught not in grief or pain
but filtered by a pure and bright aspect
Poor is the morning
in disappointment and regret
no scent of dread on the breeze
no sorrow sprouting in horizontal rays
Poor is the morning
not in hard or difficult ways
but more like a youth
stepping out into the world for the first time
Poor is the morning
like young lovers
who care for nothing
but the gentle touch of their intended
Poor is the morning
like old lovers
whom time has taught that trinkets break
but love abides in unexpected ways
Poor is the morning
like the birds of the air
like the beasts of the wood
like the creatures of the sea
Poor is the morning
unhindered by material wealth
like the blessed of the beatitude
so as to receive the day