there is an unfolding-
a dawn as soft and honest
as a new moth's wings.
do you feel it behind your eyes?
under the diaphragm, waiting to exhale?
it waits only for you-
you, with opal dreams
spinning above your head.
you, one wave,
an ocean of power at your back.
we all fear dawn sometimes,
allergic to illumination.
but we can't know just
how many colors we're made of
until early rose light rises high into white.
you don't need a riotous hive
to know you're beautiful,
nor the sun, moon, or rumors of planets.
you only need to lean into the unfurling-
thorny and rhapsodic.
