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I awoke this morning,
half-awoke, really,
to a glaze of morning light.
Upon my whole body
it lay, substantial and
ethereal at once,
calming beyond compare.

And the morning before
it happened just the same.

I haven’t felt such peace
in a long while.
I’ve been given to headaches
and falls and other intimations
of mortality, so to wake up
to a perfect balance of emotions
is new to me.

Here, then, is a prayer
to the gods of light.
To Apollo, who burnished
bright the Attic sky.
To Mithra whose team
of white horses
blazed across a Persian sky,
and to sweet Shamash,
who, long after the first
Mesopotamian morning,
and despite thousands
of years of our neglect,
blesses us still
with his gentle embrace.

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