My beginning and my end, my start, my finish.
Its blankness in the morning
Peaceful, undemanding, respectful
Letting me adjust to the sometimes blessed
Sometimes cursed, but always confusing Day.
Drawn gently from the blindness of sleep
It is my first sight
As it is my last at night
When my day is played out one last time
In its spackling. Familiar shapes and faces spring
From its once quiet blankness
To whisk me away to dreams.
Whatever inspiration is to be had in the Day,
I find it there in two deep looks.
Truly, my ceiling
Is the most wonderful thing in the world.