The sheets loosen,
brittle with yesterday’s sweat,
my limbs heavy
with the unremembered struggle

of another dream slipping into daylight.

The tide surges again— not the sea,
but the pull of routine, a weight
pressing against the ribs.
The road throbs under hurried feet,
a chorus of engines swallowing dawn’s breath.
We rise, we move, we forget
what it was we were chasing.

Beneath the pale flare of a morning too sharp,
the sun spares nothing, nor does it wait.
It only reveals— the quiet surrender,
the unbroken loop, the ceaseless chase, 

                                 the unspoken cost.