Intro-lude
June 4, 2008The clock strikes 12
its midnight and the sun
is falling into the night sky.
The clouds erupt and burst into an orange hue.
The baby cries as he leaves the darkness
and is covered in light.
The ceaseless wails fill the white faced room.
As the doctor cuts his umbilical cord
it is its own being.
Feeling the moist air breathing in the smell of garbage
by the roadside.
Seeing the plethora of colors within the clean well-lighted room.
All life breathes into the feeble body, learning it on its own.
The excruciating pain of the cut life line to its God.
Composing its own tune dancing to the beat of its own reality.
The symphony of cries drowns out
the silence into the abyss of turmoil.
The clock strikes 1:00A.M.
The crying stops to the hum of
Twinkle Twinkle.
