The Morning

The moon shifted and the sun's light broke in
His rays whispering, tearing through the dark
He shattered the flimsy dreams of the glass.
The alarms went off relentlessly, beep.

Eyes squinted shut, the eerie calm breaking.
A finger reached to silence the machine.
The morning rays—they danced across the face.

The finger failed to travel to the hush.
The persistent ringing jolted him, sit.
Finally, the hand—it clicked the silence.

Eyes still closed—and the body fell to dreams.
The sleep and the man again intertwined.
The silent, eerie calm returned to Rock.