If I wake up too early, I'll miss having the light wake me up. Instead I'll get to slowly simmer in the darkness and watch the light creep in, gently tip-toeing into my consciousness. It will then play a beautiful sonata and sing me awake with it's effervescant voice of lightness. That's why I'm always awake too early, thinking stupid thoughts, and humming stupid songs. That's why my relationship with the sun is incestous.

On some days, however, you'll spend your mornings with a sleeping bookend. Someone who won't wake up, and can only communicate with you through your own memories of what happened last night, and soft cautious mumbling.

Go back to sleep... it's still morning. It's too early.

But, then...

Whose going to watch the sun rise in it's most innocent moments?