This morning has come again,
Now I am free again.
This morning has come again,
And my nightmare is gone today.
This morning has come,
Shredding the prism of my dream,
a dream once enslaved in oblivion,
Seen only by the thoughts of closed eyes
and bitter heart.
Fueled by the agonising past of a prostrate
soul.
This morning, I saw as yesterday lived in
darkness and the shadow of the sun gently
faded away leaving hope to save the day.
I watched each night a hundred days old
and the morning like never to come.
Now that this morning has come,
My heart is me again and my ashes all
turned to beauty.
Now that this morning has come, I shall
anchor my boat to the coast and shall sail
no more.
The brightness of this morning has giving
no song to lullaby.
The voice of the morning is warmth and her
clothe soaked in sweetness.
I watched as the birds sing gloriously and
the trees danced to the rhythm of the
orchestrated song rendered by this early
morning breeze.
Yes! I watched and I saw hope looking even
when despair was lurking.
I saw my dreams in the street of hope
again.
I know the night is not yet gone but I say
thank you this morning for bringing today
to me again.
