Dawn and Again

Hello, morning. Our storming is complete.
We were together after that last dawn
overnighting our dreams, turbulence our compass.
They say we meet again, but we have always known 
that our eyes meet where the sun touches the horizon. 
Our permanent past cannot expect the same from our futures;
these plural paths gather like our thunderheads
threatening lightning, rain, and refraction. 
Yesterday and tomorrow do not form a dichotomy.
We cannot repeat ourselves enough.
The arrow that implies direction
when time has a seat
is the breaker of tables
at which we want to sit.