‘The Beginning’

It fears me

the blank stretch ahead

that awaits filling

my each movement recorded

these ghosts,

haunt or smile?

In my early morning rush,

I see them

I climb down,

I see them

they linger with the sun

fading and sharpening.

And then the light sets,

a chill rises down

the ghosts disappear

I seek comfort in the familiar

I breathe in the freshness,

freshness in calmness,

freshness in tiredness

freshness in the dying smoke.