poem on Dawn of awakening
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Dawn draws the night to it,
like a child hugs a pet.
And for a brief moment,
they’re both bonded as one.
Starlight perforates the
black canopy of space.
Creating a canvas,
worthy of masterpiece.
And yet time intervenes,
never quite standing still.
For the approach of day
is inevitable.
A magenta moon hangs,
low on the horizon.
Hovering over dawn,
like a ghost memory.
Light stabs fingers of night,
and ebony bleeds red.
And as darkness dissolves,
day delivers virgin light.
Color creeps from shadows,
as black seeks crevices.
And a carpet of dew,
plays with sun’s new born beams
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