Preety, preety; preety, preety

When I wake up
before dawn,
still dark,
from a deep sleep,
I feel
as if I've been
remolded once again
from soft clay
and am reborn.

my heart beat
lungs respired
not much ATP to ADP
to AMP converted
to keep me alive
except in my head
where neurons
rejuvenated
to store juices
to feed me on
to live on.
I shed off my ghosts
in my dreams
like a snake shakes off
its worn-out slender long coat
or a trees casts off
its dark crusted bark
to keep on living.

not a reborn christian!
nor a new age new avatar!
but myself reborn everyday
to feel the fresh wet grass
under my feet in
my garden long before
the dawn dawns;
and to gaze the stars,
to hear the music of spheres
drowned soon after the sunrise;
and to see the finches, the jays
the cardinals, the mynas
and the starlings and the bulbuls
chirping, rushing for breakfast
at the bird feeder near
the gazebo in my garden
where I sit with my early
cup of coffee and hear:
"preety, preety, preety;
preety, preety; preety, preety"
song of a bird that I cannot
see or name, hiding
in the green foliage up somewhere
in its nest and singing,
reminding me how beautiful,
how pretty is the world.