A.M. prayer and perspective

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A.M. perspective

The window arch above the bolt-locked kitchen door
lets in a thieving arm of groping light,
probing, yellow as the eyes
of alleycats.
                   The pregnant air
is birthed to crawling life as light illuminates
its unseen secrets. A galaxy of dead skin cells 
goes dancing above the hardwood. 
                                                       All is still
and slow, beyond the grasp
of time, and I am sitting in
the middle of a universe.
                                       How small I am—
How frighteningly powerful I am—
Amen amen amen.

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