A brand new dawn is always clouded,

almost by its own optimism

if not by the optimism of the others.

 

Every dawn brings a promise with it,

a promise it could never hope to keep,

and the weight of expectation bloods it.

 

Success is impossible in the red glow,

and we crush ourselves upon its cliffs

trying to cling to the first ground we can

before the waves of water end us.

 

We floated in barrels like Tolkien’s dwarves,

occasionally choking on the water,

but not quite drowning from the trip,

but something changed in us from it.