The Morning Mist

"The Morning Mist"
In the morning mist that lingers around us without us ever really realizing it there lies in wait a beautiful sunrise although not yet.  The dull blues and grays drip in from night to day and we see the morning mist, we see the gentle shade of waking day, the blended gray of a world waiting; it's here we are, it's here we lay dreading the day to arrive never realizing however the gloom beauty of this morning mist because we see only the sorrow and pain of a dreaded day, never looking past those dull monotonous but blended grays and into that shaded beauty of morning day.  The blues get lighter and the cold gets warmer and the softness of the orange begins to rise over the horizon painting away with it all the morning haze.  It's here in these moments where we never realize how easy it is to forget about that lonely morning mist where instead for a moment we feel the beauty of day never to look back, never to acknowledge the beauty before, forever to never be in that moment of morning mist although it's there in those lonely moments waiting for the sunrise that the brush strokes of a painting are created, where the tears of a memory are shed, it's here in this morning mist where we shed all the burdens of pain and sorrow just for that single moment of fresh air when the oranges come over, where the shaded mist of the morning takes all we are willing to give and forever accepts it is not beautiful like a sunrise because of the pain it sheds for us, but somewhere in the those morning moments we do see its beauty but forget in a moment of clarity, inside a tear gone, for a love of infinite gray, we forget and the morning mist accepts its not beautiful like a sunrise; however it looks on through shaded mists of gray and accepts because it knows more than we can ever realize how we are more beautiful than a sunrise.
-Armando Torres