At 4 and sometimes 3 in the morning,
the chatter and din of the early prayers.
Chiding the bright, centric child to rise.
To come and give courage and favors.
Encore of the days before, with lithe soaring.
Announce the breath of bright, windy sighs.
Sleep was lost and dreams of thought, wavers.
All the way through to creations tides.
And man, no borders to change that racket,
there are those hearts,
unbound and uncoiled to match it.
Once it was no contest.
Now the world, sprout sentient.
Instinct wild much test it!
The Mystery Valiant