Morning Light

A new day, the morning light, Gone the visions of the night. But this stirring within my chest, This turning and churning do not give rest, This fire burning without respite. I’m both broken and mended, I stand upright and upended, My spirit is not repressed, But my thoughts are distressed, And ever cloudy is my sight. Is there no guide to this maze? Something to show the hidden ways? Or will I be lost for endless days?