People start rising from their momentary slumber. All start again. The music of the beginning rouses a new set of fears, inquiries, and expectations. I hear the rustle of the pages begin to unfold.
The day has its own hue.
Waking up to another day feels like a tug of war about existing. If I am bound to discover all these, which sentiment should tap my passion?
Then, there's the music of joy and sadness in a dance.
Step here,
move there,
lift your arm forward,
and bend your back.
All these to exist.
My tears find their way through, as a recognition to the alluring complexities of the humanity and the nature that emphasizes it.
I glance back to the road, under the setting sun, with stars starting to peer through. How glorious are the changes of skies! There is a new hum to the world. A gentle longing for rest, the clicking of shutting eyes,
the day beginning to fold into a pause.
Yes, I hear you, the sound of desperation.
How can value be added to what remains?
The moon and the stars- they share their space for their magic, they are going to bring a new ode to what has been. "Oh, people, these are the notes from everything that came and went under the sun."
There is another beauty that belongs only to humanity, and in the every corner of its being, a spark blooms into hope.
Then, we can all be rest assured, rested.
