The cold mornings down upon us.
The grey that rains around us.
The story that lies within us.
Yet, we breathe.
We breathe those ice-fog breaths in the wintery morning.
The sun begins to set in the late afternoon,
the glowing ball of fire sinking deep beneath the lush green treetops.
Those purple mountains glow against the pinkish evening.
The silent sound the wind hands us,
every sharpened blade of green grass,
each blue sky and rainbow.
Can slap a smile across anyones face if they took the time to notice the beauty.
The way those stars shine in the midnight black sky,
the way twilight gleams at us,
peeking at us through slits in the darkened trees.
Shadows walk beside us,
we are THEIR shadows,
in an upside down world.
Every teardrop a waterfall;
but to every bad day...
the sunset ends it.
The sunrise begins it.
Each and everyday.