Morning is peace. Morning is calm. Morning is serene. Morning is simple. Morning is clarity. Morning is my eyes on an endless, crisp, periwinkle blue sky and new leaves of lime green hue. Morning is my lips parting to greet the face of a beautiful faerie feline, to greet the faceless of the first moving airs of the day, and the reason why, who dwells behind them, within them, beyond them … everywhere. Morning is my skin as I pull back the covers and arise refreshed. Morning is my spirit awakening from the mist of dream, to journey on, to live. Morning is the sound of Gary Stadler over a cup of hot, sweet chai spice tea. Morning is the scent of my breath after eight hours of clenching my teeth around my tongue from battling nightmares since last brushing (see to this immediately). Morning is the touch of the wind and the thought of the folk. Morning is the memory of pretty dreams if I am lucky. Morning is the knowledge that nightmares are not real in a changing mind, if I am not. Morning is the truth of my Goddess, which is my truth. Morning is my loveliness. So shall my mornings be lovely.
Brightly-spun blessings,
Lady Faemore Lorei
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