| Sun up, in place, its own, brightness and blue. The birds dance about while they wait to be fed yet sing do they, such pretty songs, melodic charms for the ears to capture. Hope of the loveliness this day can be wafts, gingerly, about my consciousness, awaiting the strength that must be there to grasp it, pull it inside, place it there upon the shelf. Effort forced this day for that, for movement, for thought, for anything, and the bed calls me back. Pull the bedding high above the head and hide, wait for the anger, the indecision, the indifference to go. But, the champion climbs upon the shoulder and prods; 'forward', he says, 'onward, climb, muster.' The demon one appears opposite and asks, wryly, sarcastically, 'why, why bother at all? It doesn't matter, no matter what you do, it won't change anything, it will always be this way, always wrong, always unhappy, always.'
I don't believe that. I can never believe that, never allow myself to see the dark side, the wrong side, the deafening defeat of that light that shines inside this mind. For it will burn til I am no more. And, I look again at that sky, smell life before me, fill my senses with all that this earth and my existence upon it and in it means, and will this mind to look for the good that surely comes. So, one deep breath away (already in motion), a turn of the head and of the attitude (working), I move the legs, the arms, and body, and begin this one, another day. Thank God do I for another chance to get it right. Perhaps, today is that day.