In the early hours of morning, birds begin to sing the melody of life, through open windows a soft breeze whispers and the sun rises, drenching my room in its light.
I stumble down the stone steps in the haze of a dream, my clothes cling to my body in the sweltering heat.
I sip a coffee, cicadas screech in the humid air. Time escapes my grasp as I battle against the ticking clock… I distance my self from the thundering cities and watch. It is truly art to simply be.
By the afternoon I return home, another coffee, it’s pouring out my ears.
Lately life has been quiet, and the surface is still, yet beneath a sea of emotions drown me, though I am learning to sail. Another week closes as another begins; the clock ticks.