The glare hid a galaxy of sight.
A patchwork of every cream and yellow.
Sun stained nimbus.
Built painstakingly by an enthusiastic morning.
So dedicated to show off the eastern sky.
The warmness of which moves me to motion.
Virtue is movement.
The morning holy therefore.
For building the inspiration to get me mobile.
To creating one single firey eye observing me.
As I earnestly exercise after dawn.
To wear myself into the first hours,
like weening at the front door of life.
Yes the eye captures any and all who are up and exposed.
To the early architecture of a common tuesday.
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