So relaxed, behind
delicate tones, somebody told him: “It would be better after a good night’s
sleep and in the morning...”
But the Dawn
was done and possibly never returning, getting used to darkness wasn’t
suggested, thus it seemed like a missing warning.
Destined to have
worries cluster, so much to learn, a night before there was no idea there would
be a new point of no return…
He was expected
to relay on hindsight on what’s right, lo and behold, being adaptable made
remembering the Dawn the plight, the stole.
Fulfill the
prediction, it’s done thus
he was like his
atmosphere; he started to come up with a newfound recognition on what’s gone…
The interruptions
were anticipated at that rate, winds blared like a haunting apparitional
presence, intrusive to the innate.
Seclusion produced,
that’s when fear got busy, being unprepared shown, and desperation got real
loose.
How could it
be, never sunlight pacing in the sky for him to see? Was it really no vision from
there on, or true clarity?
What’s
predicted: a mosaic reframed, including
the cautionary and receptive, aligned with senses, familiarized the nights. He remembered
the Dawn – deceptive.
It felt good,
the closest to being cleansed – to have slept, dreamed, and imagined so nights
were never forgotten then,
Unused to the
next day now if it ever came, left him waiting to be enveloped in the positives
of darkness again.
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