The Wake.

i awoke from the chaos and the silence―
the lack of symmetry in the dream;
i awoke from the cradle and the casket,
and everything in between.
i awoke from the daybreak and the thunder―
kissed the love and the solitude wrapped in the sheets;
mentally preparing for the ignorance and the awareness,
the morning congestion on the streets.
i stretched to the sunlight and the asana―
letting yarns signal sounds of the arrival;
i rose up towards the past and the future,
over the continuance of the survival. 
morning run through the desert and the forest―
across the ghetto, across the seam;
i ran through the mystery and the evidence,
and everything in between.
i showered in the deprivation and the blessings―
writer's ink dried the purity and the filth;
mouth washed the free speech and the censorship,
creative juices eased down the toothbrush's tilt.
i shaved away the constraints and the courage―
body lotioned the skin color unconsciously in;
i shaved off the normality and the hypocrisy,
cutting the poetic barriers thin.
dressed with the pioneers and the followers―
in helms of the delivered and the unredeemed;
i breakfasted the vitamins and the toxins,
and everything in between.
ready for the adversity and the enjoyment―
the interdependence and the places out-of-line;
left home for the defiance and the triumph,
      with the ecstatic and cadaveric entwined.

Mark Anthony Thomas
Copyright © 2004