At daybreak, we rise and shake
the slumber from the storm clouds;
morning overtook the night and now gawks
awkwardly over grey lake, opaque
with mist descended, remaking
starlit scene into sombre smoke-
lined beach, streaked, shroud-like;
the scene soaks in the mystique of this
moment, eking out meaning from
what was just our gods’ talk – gods’ play.
Don’t make the mistake, don’t seek substance
where there exists only the weak ache
of the everyday.
With thanks for the inspiration from today’s prompt at Quickly (and thanks to Jennifer for leading me there).
The Silver Leaf Journal 
“Only the weak ache of the everyday.” Yes. Finally, a name for it.
It was sort of inspired – I was struggling to express the feeling that particular incarnation of banal normality leaves you with.
❤ ❤ ❤
The sounds in this, the visuals. Wonderful. And " eking out meaning from/
what was just our gods’ talk – gods’ play."
I'm going to save this one.