Rhythm and Hope: A Treasured Feel

Turning the tide of morning - a poem.

At last, the morning is over. 
The day has begun. 
The rhythm and strength
Begetting the surreal.

Forever in awe,
One buries the financial remorse.

The stringent lunacy beckons,
And the wholeness shifts.

The struggles of a paternal, outstretched hand
Bemoan their unspeakable duties.

And the heavens replay this inhumanity
Every hour.