I have been through a lot these last few years:
I have felt a spectrum: longing, sorrow,
Joy, and in my darkest hours, cold tears.
I've both awaited and shunned the morrow.
For in time the morrow would be the end,
But perhaps on the morrow I would grow.
Not even a clairvoyant could portend
What even in my heart I did not know.
And yes, finally one day the morrow came
As all days eventually must come.
On that sunrise I had myself to blame:
Somehow keeping myself deaf, blind, and dumb,
Save one revalation, hopelessly vexed:
On the heels of each old day comes the next.