The Morning Poem

The morning comes around again
Banging on the door like an unwanted guest
As always it is far too early
Has it no manners?

My mind jars as it tries to enter first gear
My eyelids refuse to lift
Covering my eyes in half shade
My body feels battered and bruised
As if I have just wrestled a bear
My every muscle is begging for mercy
It would be so easy to go back to sleep
But there is a fire that burns within me

I fling off the covers and I leave the warm trap of my bed
I need my mind sharp
I pick up my bible and notebook
And suddenly my heart stirs
And my excitement awakens
As I remember that this cruel, cold morning
Is actually a window of opportunity
Through which I am able to get another glimpse of You

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