First Light

First light,
and everything that is you
sleeps heavy beneath crumpled sheets.
Morning.
Always.
Again.
Inevitable.
It stirs the remaining embers,
warms the blood,
summons up the wayward awakening body to
its absent-minded compulsions.
From the depth of oblivion your eyes glimmer and unriddle.
Page after page deciphered.
Scene after scene already seen.
It has been years of extravagant melancholy since Tuesday.