As the first beam touches the darkness,
Removing night shadow by shadow,
Rays of gold light touch down,
And hope is easy to feel.
Dreams and desires tingle at fingertips,
New chances are as close as each breath.
Energy renews, refreshing each spirit.
Beginnings seem simple to grasp.
But earth turns slightly every second,
Hiding the light beyond the horizon,
Out of reach, out of sight, out of hand,
Pink and purple streaks write the ending.
The light of the moon gives just enough
To reflect the dreams lying unfulfilled,
Illuminating the chances sitting unturned,
Failure twinkling back from the stars.
The whiteness glows against the clouds,
Outlining what will never fully be drafted,
Drawn, or said. Haunting those who look up
out of sleep, out of peace, out of try.
We let these moments slip through
Our fingers. Like grains of sand sliding out
Of a broken or cracked hour glass.
Impossible to pick up, put back, or count.
One small tap in the wrong place,
The crack ruptures, nothing can be held.
The sand mixes with shattered shards,
Splintering the hand that hopes to fix it.
One Word at a Time 