morning muse

The sounds of chaos meet the maddening silence in a clumsy reunion. There is a chill in the air. Breathing out a sigh that goes deeper than the bond between mother and child, the resulting steam swirls up, it's tendrils groping the air with freedom and wanderlust. The kitchen is the birthplace of this morning religion and the comfort that fills my warm cup will soon find its way to my heart, burrowing beneath the layers of chill and bone, circling outward until it has met its purpose. The sun looks down with a familiar grin, winking at the lazy routine. Every morning starts off with the same hesitation, the same timidity as though meeting a lover for the first time, uncertain of what is to come. Seeking the comfort of what was known and yet drawn forward all the same. It is accepting the madness that will transform the shy child inside, as if you know the world will only continue to revolve if you move forward with it. If you accept that what the day brings will inevitably become part of the story. So you choose to oblige with eyes closed and full acceptance until the morning smiles a new chapter to existence and you whisper grateful words to the one who anchors your soul. 

...and you are ready to start the day.