Sono Sveglia (I Am Awake)
The sun swiftly trips in his hurry to please
And awakens orange in everything
while falling to his knees.
Just like sun’s last hurrah, self-sacrificing plight
In morning, we begin anew
by slicing through the night.
But our story does not set on suns, for they are never blue
If only we took more after light,
instead of sorrow’s hue.
Know me then, lonely friend, as the oceans know their waves
Pick the pieces to throw back and treasure what you save:
“Scarce and mellow are people who love
through walls or letters secretly,
in shallow places whispered of,
like muffled voices in a raging sea.
Sometimes we drown our hope
in a bucket by the door;
We all live in oceans now,
pretending that’s what we are living for.”
Yet if we peek above the swell, one eyelash at a time
We slowly, gently, softly see
(in mourning echo from our sleep)