You die at sunrise; you died in your sleep. Every night, you dream. Every time, you fall in a little bit. Six inches under, six inches deep. Just as the sun is below the horizon, your destiny is in the East.
Rise from the last day’s ashes; you find yourself sweating, unable to breathe. Is that fear I see?
Yesterday’s knowledge congeals into baggage. Today is another day for mistakes. Tomorrow, you know nothing.
So you died in your dream, over and over again, chasing what you want to believe. What you want to believe is the gravity holding you down, the air above. What you want to believe is tomorrow. Tomorrow, the sun will rise. Yet, at sunrise you are dead. You see nothing in the light. You see nothing as the night fades from your blinds.
There is only one thing you see. One person you actually see. Who am I seeing? Who I am seeing? The one person you see, staring back blindly, blinking.
The face is familiar, the smile is peculiar. Dimples? You see. It is nothing but someone from your unpacked baggage. It is something you tucked away in the West, someone you unpacked in the East. You stare back with your fingers tracing. You outline the hair. You outline the chin. You outline the chin.
You realize, who you see. You see fear in the darkness in the eyes. You see fear in the darkness. You see fear. You see.
Tomorrow, the sun rises.