In the morning, the time of hope,
the sky will be blue like fresh steel,
or woolen grey,
it might rain, or it might be hot
like always, or you might see your
footprints in the frost. The sky, the world, won’t care,
and the sky, the world, won’t know.
The world. It needs help sometimes.
A push, a kickstart, a breath, from you.
So breathe. Be life.
In the evening, before the night,
after the work of the day is done -
the sky will be blue like fresh steel,
or woolen grey,
and you might be confused
because it will look like dawn again.