Going to bed when the rest of the world is stirring and grumbling at being forced out of the solace of warm blankets and intricately woven, half-conscious dreams, feeling at peace with yourself, watching grey clouds hang low in the sky- impending rain, not gloom- and the rain fall, come imperceptibly, leave behind traces on the dry dust on the window-panes. Living the moment, knowing or caring nothing about the past and the future, just knowing that right now, the world is indeed a movingly beautiful place to be in.
Numbness hangs heavy in the dim room, almost tangible and material, quiet yet discernible. Emotions are quickly aroused, the senses are keener than ever, the overwhelming sense of well-being comes from deep within, dismissing the physical weariness of a night spent awake with an impatient wave of its hand. How rare these moments are- and all the more precious and valued for their scarcity. They coil up in deep recesses to come at you suddenly when things don’t seem quite right.
Hope disguises itself in various ways.