The unsuspecting gray morning woke, then nestled into her blanket of early spring fog hoping for no more or no less than yesterday. The sun was hidden. She could sleep in. 

Morning wants nothing. Asks for nothing. Expects nothing from the world. She only exists as she has for millennia, day after day. Showing up dependably with no expectations attached. 

Blanketed today by this unusual luxury, she assumes she has no imminent responsibility. Hidden in foggy shadow she can be anything she dreams. Does she dream? Or does she just wait for the sun to determine her future. 

Today’s opportunities match little or nothing from the past. Moment to moment, the sun rises behind the wall of fog, unstoppable. Accepting no time alteration or redirection, morning has only a few hours to make her mark. She does not care. She simply is. 

A gentle relaxation slowly envelops her. No shame in wanting to lay in the darkness a bit longer. Avoid all thoughts. Be nothing. But time passes. Morning knows she eventually fades into noon and beyond into nothingness. She must wake. 

Enlightenment will catch up eventually, uninvited. In the meantime, no ray of joy or happiness is entertained in the murkiness. Just empty thought until morning quietly dissolves undeniably into afternoon. 

Her denial of her temporary existence and a small amount of grace seep into the void left by the thought. That’s the way she likes her day anyway. Unintentional with a side of truth. She will relive a version of it all again tomorrow. Fresh and new and different. TBD 

-Cindi A. Jobe