a new day, beautiful

"it's a beautiful day!
don't let it get away..." - u2

6:40 a.m. - i awake to a newborn day and cradle it in my arms, watching the sunrise in its smile. it begins with a blush flushing its cheeks with a peach stain before the day yawns sleepily and gifts me with a full-blown grin. its mouth opens to reveal a golden orb of warmth and light reflecting its innocent essence. as rays of its laughter kiss my face in incandescent giggles, i undo the latch on the window and throw it open. gathering the day closer to my bosom, i close my eyes and deeply inhale its nascent scent of dew dusted grass, feeling the warm breeze of its breath feather across my body and brush away the last particles of slumber from my muscles.

6:45 a.m. - sitting down to the computer, i'm loathe to turn it on. the tornado within me has been especially destructive lately, tossing my emotions around in a violent swirl of unnatural disaster before they crashed and shattered into barbed entries upon my blog. i'd been picking up pieces of friendships destroyed in its aftermath over the last couple of days, cutting myself in the process, leaving new wounds i'd have to salve with different remedies. but i could no longer dwell on old days, the children of father time i'd aged prematurely into withered periods of bitterness. their hours, diseased with my fury, had been full of cancerous conversations that had turned everyone involved into negative reflections of positive intentions. i am determined to bury those old days with the dignity i didn't afford them when they were among the living, so i turn on the computer, gather his words of red annoyance, and take them to bury alongside the now dead days existing in the cemetery of my past. the tombstone reads:

"here lies days dead ofter a diet of bitter swills and the remains of his anger after a clashing of killer wills"

i plant flowers of closure to grow above the resting place, their soft petals absent of hard feelings.

6:50 a.m. - the water is freckled on the face of the bathroom tile and i am standing beneath the spray of hot droplets, thanking god for granting me a new day and for allowing me the water to wash from my skin the stench of discontent i'd worn as a layer of dirt upon my clothes during those dead days. i close my eyes and consume the darkness into my mind, hopeful my other senses could assist me in cleansing my spirit of the toxins eating away at its essence. tipping my head back, i open my mouth to imbibe of the water, a rain of rejuvenation as it hits my mouth in pinpoints of warmth and accumulates into a drink of god's will sliding down my throat. it floods every molecule of me, soaking my being with an invited fire i need to burn away the last of the dead days baggage. i remain a figure framed in spray until my skin lays wrinkled, the rivulets of my melancholy finally discending down the drain, leaving behind my shivering mass of titties and ass to ascend without burden from the shower stall.

7:15 a.m. - i'm on my way to work at an earlier time than usual. it's not because i want to work.

i want to write about the birth of a new day from the ashes of old pain
i want to write about the the burying of old loss in the wake of new gain
i want to write about the mending of old fractures
so that i can heal whole and new again

a new day
beautiful

it won't get away from me this time...