Aubade

There is nothing waiting at end of night,
Merely the onset of regular day,
Practiced routines pawned off in the light.

Dreams suddenly unknown slip out of sight,
Hurrying from the stage as if in a play,
There is nothing waiting at end of night.

Now the morning folds over pale and bright,
Bringing once more a familiar way,
Practiced routines pawned off in the light.

Outside the sky like a migraine glares white,
Discharged from sleep and impressed here to stay.
There is nothing waiting at end of night.

Get up, get up, for the time is now right
To start anew your ritual dismay,
Practiced routines pawned off in the light.

Awakened you fall as from a great height
And the black nocturnal vault fades to gray,
There is nothing waiting at end of night,
Practiced routines pawned off in the light.

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