My eyes felt weak,
The sun felt different.
In the mornings, the hazy embodiment of my figure came out of the shadows that the moon once lit on the sidewalk.
The way the morning sun cut through the window,
the clarity that echoed through the dull breeze.
It was all effortless.
I used to take drives down country roads in the mornings.
The dew on the grass looked like sea glass of an other worldly dimension.
In the mornings, my body felt weak,
A dreamlike cloud would hover itself over me.
The stars would fade as the sun ascended.
Dreams came across my mind,
What would the morning sky be like in the year 9999?
Would new wonders dissipate the present and render our perceptions of the present useless?
I thought about the insects that lived for a day,
Reality is a strange concept,
its never really there.
Reality is everything that is different from yourself.
What is reality for "a butterfly who floats for a day and thinks that it is forever?"
Perhaps we are just the same,
We float for a day and think it is forever.
Our dreams will be and cease to be,
Reality will be a morning drive,
Thoughts and feelings will come and go,
The sun will come up again.