That quiet space at the leading edge of the day, held as a private place where thoughts can coalesce, and step from the fog of morning.
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lyrics
The night has gone, and drifting dreams
are scattered by the morning beams,
long the darkened prelude seemed.
The sun has come, to burn the dew,
the dust that was the morning blue,
gone the shroud roun’ garden rue.
‘Tween the night, ‘tween the day,
and who’s to tell the time and who’s to say.
Asleep, awake, to give, to take,
and who’s to draw the line and who’s to pay.
To laugh, to cry, a truth, a lie,
and who’s to count the many shades of gray.
The night has gone, and drifting dreams
are scattered by the morning beams,
long the darkened prelude seemed.
The sun has come, to burn the dew,
the dust that was the morning blue,
gone the shroud ‘roun garden rue.
As morning is the shoreline, sunlight is the sea,
the waves of light are lapping, on lids of eyes asleep.
The moon is but a light-boat, in the ebony,
obscured by this day’s vision, a lunar legacy.
Wed as Thoth is to the night, a lock without a key,
until this day has ended, the moon cannot be free.
The sun has come, to burn the dew,
the dust that was the morning blue.
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