The morning mist hangs lazily among the myriad of plateaus, hidden between rolling peaks. The sun tries to assert its authority by rising high on the horizon, in an effort to burn off the remaining suspensions of ghostly moisture. Wafts of warm air alternate with the cool humid atmosphere of a new day. Birds now awake to the new dawn chorus sharing their excitement of fresh adventures that await them. The air is still and languid, its' catatonia adding to the hypnotic nature of the morning.
I sit on the veranda, with the world mostly asleep. Unaware of its' beauty, unaware of its' mystique. My breath adds to the hanging droplets of vapour, that now has a grey spectre entwining itself around the gnarled trunks of deciduous trees. Grotesque shapes reveal themselves as branches become visible through the achromatic haze.
This time of tranquility, at one with nature where I am very much in awe of her grace. I am reminded of my place in this universe, a microcosm looking out but not fully cognisant of all natures creations. There is a peace, though still intangible, that restores an order that my body fully acknowledges, but my psyche struggles with. I may not see all, or feel all, however, there is a sense of harmony when the world and I share but a fleeting opportunity of perception and acceptance
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