To wake early is just to be with the morning.
It’s no other exercise.
It’s not getting to something else sooner.
It’s not some way of a champion.
It doesn’t place you ahead of anyone.
To rise early is to feel that you’re king.
But not in the hierarchy sense.
To be born after the night’s death.
King as in beknighted again.
Out of the blue.
Risen out of the depths.
Out of a subconscious dream story.
Peering around for evidence of change.
Of new leaves on the same bush.
Of new mosquito bites on legs beneath your gaze.
Of unique sound combinations when it feels like you’ve heard them all.
Of air movements up and down instead of by the compass points.
Of storying cool people when you thought there were none.
The rebirth of cool like Miles Davis.
Looking for those who haven’t been fully tricked.
Up and aware of small things coming into being again.