Dawn’s Invitation

The sky doesn’t ask
for permission to bleed its colors,
and the air refuses to wait
for breath to catch up.

I do not rise;
I collide with the morning,
a half-formed thought
carved from yesterday’s dream.

The streets hum a language
I only sometimes understand,
but today, I listen to the rhythm,
the slow shuffle of someone else’s plans.

I meet the day without questions,
because it has none.
It simply is,
and I am
simply still here.

No need to greet it,
it knows you,
in the way mornings remember
the sound of birds
before they sing.

The world, barely awake,
matches your pace,
neither rushing
nor holding back.

It meets you
as you are—
unfinished
and full of everything.