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The Morning

The hour when
The hazy proclamations and manifestos
Must find their shallow graves,
As vibrant, new, and reasoned
Life steps forth looking
Back with haughty gaze.

Disenchanted by the drunken thoughts
That neglectful night had brought.

But little does he know
What lies beyond his bed,
Nor what tales a day may bring
And the treatises prepared
For when night returns again.