Morning

It sits in the brain
like a light switch
that has yet to be flipped.

There is an extension cord
from the head to the sun,
it will only feel power
the second you decide
to do more than yawn
do more than merely stare
with eyes opened.

Even without the electricity flowing
in the shadows is the sense
something incredibly intense
needs to be awaken,
shaken and aroused.

Fingers fidget with worry
can’t let this morning exist
unless the creatures hidden
are released
and you can scream or laugh
as they roam with their fangs.

Just living in that dawn
isn’t life without actually movement,
wandering through the rays
until they burn inside
with all their whispers.