Is the beginning
found in our hands or in our feet -
a fall or a climb?
The finger writing fate
or the toe dipping into the night?
Did it take seven days for light
to find its place
or perhaps time cannot be measured
until there are eyes that can see
perhaps my life
like ancient Abraham
only began
after you.
Every morning I wake
turn
and there you are fighting the daylight still
determined to remain in sleep
cocooned.
I wander out to the shower
stand beneath the fall
decide again that the light is not the sun’s shine
but our response.
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