Oh my, it’s morning again, February grey when the sky is a bowl of ashes... The dry cold morning air, lips cracked, the tragedy of leaving the bed, how did it ever get to this? What have we done wrong to put ourselves through these daily funeral processions… When the morning is dead, the day is too, and in this lonely colorless world I ask only for the fool’s oblivion of sleep a moment longer… and in the purgatory of dawn, you bring a vape pen to your lips, push a button and draw.
Colors, leaves, light, perfume, sunshine, bit by bit unfold themselves across your taste buds, then through your nose… memories, dreams, future hopes and plans are visible again from the grey fog!
There’s a path before you toward the light: from your floral shampoos, to the hot reassuring smell of coffee, the satisfying crunch of your cereal, to the perfume you splash on before you leave the door, you are being nurtured and cared for by plants.
To take a quiet second to enjoy your botanicals and live in the moment completely is the start of every bloomsday.
Far above the clouds the darkness vibrates, and the earth is a bloom.