On the Edge of an Epiphany

‘It’s not all that dark,’ says my muse, ‘if you open your eyes.’
She’s right. On this rainy predawn Friday morning
we stand on wet grass watching grey mists rise.
I ask her, ‘Are these daemons in disguise?’
‘If you like,’ she says. ‘You can master your perspective.
You can learn your waking nightmares are elective.’
Your thoughts aren’t you. They’re just your thoughts because
you think them. They merely an effect of.’
I say, ‘Sun, rise up!’ And gloriously it does.

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