{"id":2366,"date":"2016-03-02T01:58:24","date_gmt":"2016-03-02T00:58:24","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/w7m.3ee.myftpupload.com\/?p=2366"},"modified":"2016-03-03T03:48:04","modified_gmt":"2016-03-03T02:48:04","slug":"a-light-in-the-window","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/theodorewaterfield.com\/?p=2366","title":{"rendered":"Sunrise"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><em>There is nothing so dark<br \/>\nas too much light,<br \/>\nto be blinded by radiance,<br \/>\nby the sun rising inside one\u2019s self.<br \/>\nA cold, dazzling orb<br \/>\nlike a midge becoming thought,<br \/>\nand so I have seen the sun<br \/>\nrising in me.<br \/>\nAnd for what purpose I don\u2019t know,<br \/>\nbut it is for me to see that sun,<br \/>\nand tell it to go away,<br \/>\nlike commanding a shadow,<br \/>\nfor which there is no body,<br \/>\njust a mystic diary,<br \/>\na portion of being,<br \/>\nfor which breakfast and the city<br \/>\nhas no place.<\/p>\n<p>I go to my work,<br \/>\nand over a donut see the sun inside me,<br \/>\nancient as the East,<br \/>\na sea with mermaids and reedy sails,<br \/>\nand jars of jungle spice,<br \/>\nand languages whose words<br \/>\nare cinnamon and cloves.<br \/>\nBut it could be even more ancient,<br \/>\nwhen people slept in beds of unignited dust,<br \/>\nand waited like the faces of Easter Island,<br \/>\nlooking out to sea,<br \/>\nwaiting for existence,<br \/>\nand I was there<br \/>\nwith that sun inside me,<br \/>\nyounger and blonder,<br \/>\nand eyes as black as raven feathers.<\/p>\n<p>It slept inside,<br \/>\nnear as my nose,<br \/>\nfar as the edge of darkness.<br \/>\nNow it just lingers,<br \/>\nalmost at my command.<br \/>\nI can see dawn<br \/>\nopening with bronze arms,<br \/>\ngreeting me,<br \/>\ntelling me where the light is,<br \/>\ndaring it to rise,<br \/>\nand see through the scallops<br \/>\nof infinite dimensions and lives,<br \/>\nwhere no one is forgotten,<br \/>\nthat diaries are kept<br \/>\nof summers,<br \/>\nthat never go away.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>There is nothing so dark as too much light, to be blinded by radiance, by the sun rising inside one\u2019s self. A cold, dazzling orb&#8230;<\/p>\n<div class=\"more-link-wrapper\"><a class=\"more-link\" href=\"https:\/\/theodorewaterfield.com\/?p=2366\">Continue reading<span class=\"screen-reader-text\">Sunrise<\/span><\/a><\/div>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2366","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-index-of-all-poems","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/theodorewaterfield.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2366","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/theodorewaterfield.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/theodorewaterfield.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theodorewaterfield.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theodorewaterfield.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2366"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/theodorewaterfield.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2366\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4581,"href":"https:\/\/theodorewaterfield.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2366\/revisions\/4581"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/theodorewaterfield.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2366"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theodorewaterfield.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2366"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theodorewaterfield.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2366"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}