I can’t sleep tonight.
The fog is so thick outside my window the street lights barely cut through it. It hangs heavy in the air, pressing further and further toward the ground until morning. There it stays, gathering weight as It awaits Dawn’s penetrating light, knowing her blade will dull itself in the effort to slice through.
There are days, now that autumn has arrived, that the sun cannot burn through the fullness of the fog until late afternoon. Soon it will stay, if not washed away by the rain, until evening.
These are the days of haze. A never-ending cycle of obscured reality punctuated by all-too-brief moments of clarity… Lambent streams never again to be found once lost again to the darkening dusk and sacrificed to the midnight mist.
But such transitory perspicuity is nature’s course. The shrouded air may not wish to uncloud, but I trust eventually it will. It must. I know better than to underestimate the power of a flaming star. The power of brightness, heat, and light.
You always did call me Sunshine.