Newborn

Where I'm going
is a young sight
for old eyes.
Once jaded, callous
Glazed
Now open and eager
Face lifted up, turned into the wind
A newborn day
appears over the mountains
The midwife night
slowly pulls away
and surrenders its gift
into my anticipating arms.
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Edit: An older poem on the same topic from years ago..



Epiphany

Mourning
tears of sadness fall
from eyes ashen
and changing into
Morning
rays of sunlight peer
from aft
blue tainted ridges.