The light is cold, blue. White. Bright.
The room, cold. Sterile. Clean.
The centerpiece, shiny, staino, cold….
ice cold.
The book of life lays on an old doily, aged and yellowing…
The room lifeless… Yet full to capacity,
(have you ever noticed a room with a sleeping person still "feels" alive?- this one does not).
It scares with a morbid coldness
That doesn't make sense to the living.
No life, no character,
No promise of good things to come.
For those within, the day has set,
The beauty now left to us…
The view beyond. Unparalleled beauty,
Framed in a glass panel in a thick green door…
The days dawn beyond boasts of hopefulness, gently not brazen…
as she spreads colour vibrant…
Blue, and pink to the horizons' edge…there is no edge…it is eternal
Its vibrancy the backdrop to inky silhouettes of gums, poinsettias and jacarandas
The birdsong plucks clear in the stillness,
The fish splash in the satiny dark smoothness,
insects scatter and screech…
the dawn time is deafening, and yet unobtrusive in the serene solitude.
A new day is born.
Mother Nature, in your beauty you are ironic…or are you
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