When Morning Comes

You will fail. You must know this.

A sleepless night will tell you. Repeatedly. Experientially. So that when morning comes, and it will always be morning, again, in which your decision is cast, you will find your answer. Is this a day I will begin with words? My words.

Words that reach for knowing what it is to be alive. Words that tenderly caress you, opening you to this new day. Quiet and fervent.

This succulence is yours to taste and feel as it pools and drips.

Let it weep from your mouth.