An early morning bird song signals the start of the day.
'oh no, monday morning' the thought in awareness arises for some.
but is it true, can a day be labelled as such?
there was a time when monday existed not.
fingers on the keyboard, an itch, the sound of a distant plane humming,
surely this is what is, not monday, not the world, not the thoughts about another day.
the mind wonders freely, awareness rooted in the real.
there's freedom now, to go where I will,
no rules, no judgment, no conflict that's deep.
the crisp morning air calls and draws my body out,
life continues to unfold, the great mystery from beyond.
alive, awake, here now forever more.