Effloroscence Streams

Mornings come with struggle and mornings show you the sweetest and the most platonic dreams. Mornings are an irony- if you wake up for the fresh breeze, for the elusive sight of dew drops from the leaves- you miss your dreams, your best sleep. You miss those true morning forecasts which could hint some truths of your life. You miss the story in your dreams which could have taken form, which would have led you to a way. Mornings dresses you your most innocent looks and your most carnal flavours, yet it devours you to your most dismal odours.Mornings sets you ready, and to an extent they make you sturdy. They make you pray and meditate. They make way for sunshine, new air,bird's chirps,mornings make ways for new beginings. Yes,it was not a night that I first chose to write here, it was a morning. It was 2 'o' clock in the morning. And if I go mute forever on here,it will not be a night, it shall be a morning. It was a morning that I first fell in love and they were not the nights when we used to have those nasty fights, they were the mornings, those rainy mornings. They weren't the nights that I failed to sleep and when I thought just too deep, they are the mornings. Mornings were the one who calmed down my ego and made my heart say sorry by really meaning it. Yes, it has always been the mornings. It was maybe in the morning when Christ was crucified and maybe in the morning he will come back too to speak for me and you.Mornings made me realise colours in each of it's pixels,dreams and it's distance, words and all it's relations. It was in these mornings that I struggled to write and sound like poetry and it was in these mornings that I got so enlightened by some of your writings. These mornings made me laugh for you and cry for you, without letting it never known to you. It wasn't the nights that I had waited for you so eagerly, it was the mornings. Nights never showed me nightmares, it was the mornings.Everyone is jilted or jostled only in the mornings, until movement itself seemed to relieve a shadow of ache, yes only in the mornings. Music has never been so serene but in the mornings. Walks have never been so romantic but only in the mornings. I slept and missed my sleep only in the mornings. It was a morning which one day drew my whole world; leaving me no clue how to walk and see this world. This is the same morning who gave me sun and strength, and stick to walk, and hope to live. These mornings! Oh,these mornings!