at the crack of dawn when the first rays of a radiant sun break through the darkness that has engulfed the night for what seemed like eternity, the air can be filled with such hopes and promises, and the accidentally awaken ones gently rub their swollen eyes and wonder if maybe today is the beginning of a new world remarkable, brilliant and magnificant. the silence of a cold morning, tainted only by the yawns of a passer-by street cat, keeps the drifters entrapped in their Utopian homelands and wraps the coming hours in a protective blanket of anticipation. oh, how I wish time halts at this imminent moment of events unfolding, revealing only tempting hints of what is to come but holding the floodgates of inevitables at bay. is it not the anticipation of joy and happiness that is the gold currency that drives us, not the actual mundane repetitions of unfulfilled dreams, heartbreaks and dispppointments? Wishful thinking, I cautioned myself. I roll to my side as the pre-destined hours march in: army boots, military drums and shoulder-strapped rifles.
