October 7: Dyschronous

Easterly clouds masked daybreak’s glow so well
All sources of the blue-grey light were blurring.
Without a timepiece, it was hard to tell
If sunrise or a sunset was occurring.

And in the evening, six musicians wrought
Hypnotic aural waves from wooden planks.
Painstaking polyrhythmic patterns sought
To cloud the consciousness, leaving it blank.

So often on a chosen holiday
The contexts with which every day is greeted
That frame my thoughts and actions go away,
Ambitious plans too often uncompleted.

But since, from sunrise, I checked expectations,
There were no limits to my aspirations.

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