Sunlight acts as a natural source of fuel for the rested diurnal beasts. As it climbs back into a sky once void of its presence, warm orange hues invigorate the sleepy. Songs of birds add to the furor- force the lying to rise.
The first moments of transition between unconscious to lucid is like surfacing from the depths of a warm pool. The air tastes sweet on the tongue and overwhelms the lungs with relief. The novelty of the first breath is never lost. Another day gifted to one deemed worthy.
When shared as a moment between two warm bodies, the return to the living is a pleasant ritual. Limbs intertwine to nurse dopamine from dormant neurotransmitters. Moments pass and then the chapter begins. Another chapter of a life writes itself.
The turn of the Earth is the predictable rock that hosts life’s stories. Morning’s return day after day is the cliff in stormy waters. Regardless of the state of things, the light ignites a fire. Songs are sung. The earth receives its mother with worship that is contagious.
Happiness is a virgin morning. A gift.
A definition.
Skarface 