through the grey

This morning I woke up to a day of unrealized light. My first look outside revealed iron clouds hovering low over barren trees that wept for the loss of the sun. A world shrouded in melancholy that waited patiently for me to leave the secure confines of my home so that it could absorb me into its unmitigated bleakness. It is a place I know well, though, and I don't fear it. The bitter tears falling from the trees make a subtle symphony to my ears. The iron clouds reveal patterns of great beauty to those who take the time to look. A grey dawn, but not one devoid of promise. After all, our lives can't be all sunshine and bright colors. It's mornings like this that make the sun more welcome, the blooming flowers more vivid. Not only that, but it gives us a chance to dwell on feelings too fragile to survive the harsh glare of the sun and perhaps too frightening to call up in the full darkness of night. Wrapped up in the dim cocoon of sheltering half-light, however, we are free to cross over into realms that must otherwise remain hidden. Of course, given a choice I'd rather crawl back into bed and sleep for a few more hours.