Misty Morning Light

37134FE7-2456-4395-A546-8B707B417468.jpegDriving through the old town, leaving the bustle behind
I glance ahead and see the white sun, glaring through the grey winter sky

The imposing mass, so far away, it’s stark colour discomforting me
Somehow still shines through the mist and the wispy branches clean of leaves, bringing an eerie calmness

The chill, harsh air that makes the breeze
Is bitingly cold as I roll down the window
The brume conceals the road ahead as I drive through

Presently I enter the centre of the mists, the winter light clean and bright, the Sun striking the vapour loudly and evoking my imagination

I feel as if I am driving into my death, surrounded by white light, brilliant and gleaming
Sudden silence reigns down, and I imagine Angels alighted on clouds, playful smiles at their lips, pink cheeks, wearing white robes with harps in their hands; wistful humans, dazed and dreaming, wandering lightly over a transparent floor, golden gates beyond them

I imagine a world without pain or hunger, without want or need, with no concept of time or fear…. then the light starts to fade, as the mist clears

It is no longer blindingly white but drearily grey,
Muddy green fields to my right and bare trees to my left,
I can hear tyres on the road and the roar of the engine; I am grounded again.

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