3 Am

How impressive are we- blessed with ragtime, breathless things with sunrises, the shock-light feeling of being up before the birds with the thrill-sharp sting of cold rain in the dark and skinned knees and how your hands shake when you look up at the chaos-shiny stars The breath-sticky sound of your own smile; the blood in your veins windows open and empty - wind, rush, we can be heroes Just for one night! gasp, waltz, plunge For everything thrumming, conscious, clamorous, deep Whatever it is that tugs your heart (be it guitar strings, ink- eyelashes against her cheek) bitter, crashing, ringing, glittering - resplendent. Alive and feeling. How golden are we? To simply be