The Morning After.

The Morning After. {Poem}


I who lived a drunkard’s life

used to emerge from soul-darkness

each dank morning,

surrounded by reeking,

spiteful, half-drained

cans and bottles.

I awoke to sunshine

and realized that

books lay strewn and piled

around my bed, exactly

where the detritus of drinking

used to scatter.

Such irony, and sweet messy blessing!

To awake to realms of words,

troves of wisdom,

endless possibilities,

instead of warm beer and an empty

frightened, cold heart.

 “Of all things, I liked books best.”  ~ Nikola Tesla