The ocean roars in the key of C
like a temple drone,
lit by the spotlight of a super moon.
I watch as the sky changes
from night-blue to morning-rose,
painted on wet sand below.
As you speak to the tide
in your secret language,
bringing carpets of waves to my feet.
These are days worth rising for.
While others are sleeping, making coffee,
locked inside classrooms with gurus.
You’ll still be teaching this workshop
on breath and bliss,
from a throne that overlooks eternity.