It won't be long now.
Until the sun will rise on another day.
Another day that hasn't started yet.
Yet I'm here, before anyone else.
Being early to the day.
Is lonely.
Not long now.
Until everything I know happens.
The day is a book.
The first page.
Is when everybody wakes up.
No matter what happens.
People in this world.
People in this city.
They will wake up.
They will always wake up.
And start their day.
It's a book.
When everyone wakes up.
Is the very first page.
And then the sun rises.
And the day plays out.
But it feels like me sitting here.
Awake.
Is like a sin.
I'm here before the first page.
I'm here before the start of the story.
And it's lonely.
And it's strange.
Whatever happens
People are going to wake up.
They're going to start on a new page
But I'm early.
I'm an alien.
Not long now.
Until everyone wakes up.
But what happens.
If they don't.
Maybe the page won't be read.
The day won't start.
And I'll be here.
Lonely.
But why.
Am I lonely.
It's the same world as yesterday.
...
Not long now.
Until it all happens.
YOU ARE READING
The Sun Alone (3)
Poetry"So much to say, so few words that let me say it" ... Poetry for dark days. Sometimes it's necessary to wallow in your sorrows and in the deep dark shades of black. But the colours change. And you'll soon see the bigger picture, the fine details an...
