should all rare things not be documented? i look into this muted sunrise for the thousandth time — but for the first time i see more than just orange hues dissolving into the sunlight. they are lyrical colors dancing in celebration of a new day, so as for the end of one, and never once lamented about how long it has been since i had partaken in this perennial ceremony. i will miss the beauty i chance upon once i’m no longer cooped up in this little apartment, when i move across the country, but i know all good things will move with you, wherever you’re carried to by your feet.
before i go
