The sky can’t seem to decide whether it’s night or day. It lingers in a blue-grey haze, being neither azure day, nor inky night… and yet, a bit of both. The tip of my pen dances joyously over the page, words springing forth mirthfully. My thoughts condense calmly, crystal clear in a mind at peace. Yet my eyes can barely see these little glyphs of love come together in the darkness…

Is this how we live life? In the shadows, we write our own lives. Yet we barely see what we’ve written until we’re done and have reached a place of light…