Aurora, step softly over the dewdrop green
Lift their slumber-fogs lightly – those gentle, little beings
May they all be allowed their space in this special, humble place
May they all be granted grace of greeting their once familiar face
Nudge awake those placid waters, with scented breath, clean
Remind them actual and probable were split by once, a dream
Step your whisper feet so kindly and light their little ways
And if they question sunset, reveal the colors of this day
Post Script
I wrote this poem as an appeal to dawn. Aurora is asked not simply to bring light, but to enter gently, respecting the small lives already present and the quiet world from which they are waking.
Waking can feel like returning to something familiar without being able to name exactly what has returned. The “once familiar face” may be our own, someone we love, or the world itself. It also carries a Zen resonance for me: the possibility of recognizing what was never entirely lost.
Dreams loosen the boundary between what is actual and what is possible. Morning does not resolve every uncertainty, but it gathers us again into a shared day. There is compassion in wishing that this awakening need not be abrupt, and that every being may be given enough space to arrive in its own way.
The everlasting journey is not progress toward a final destination. It is the recurring passage through darkness, dream, recognition, questioning, and light. Sunset does not contradict the morning. Both belong to the same continuing life.
Image credit: AI-generated image created by the author for this poem. The original image-generation tool is no longer known.
Primitive Joe 