Through the Incandescent Window
Most mornings are the like every other. I get up. I get dressed. I go to work. Only slight variations from the norm, just enough to keep me interested. Can't complain though, many have less. Some have more, which isn't always better. Yet still this season has been long and exhausting. I feel used up. A dried out husk. The stimulation from my daily endeavors does not fulfill my heart. I feel the coldness seep into every pore. I long for the touch of the sun. In this despair I feel trapped. All of life seems like a madhouse. Then there are mornings when the mists sweep down from the mountains to caress the land about them and the sun is suspended in the fog just above the tree tops. Returning the World to it's self. Reminding me that; "Life is but a dream..."
Post Script: If you are having trouble seeing the image, try adjusting the brightness of your monitor.