Silent timeless morning, gray mist dances by dawn's light,
gracing all things with a divine glow.

Faun you surprise me, transport me, awaken me to what is real.

Large moist eyes rest as your soft mouth gently chews dew soaked grasses.

My emotions pour soaking each moment with love and appreciation. Leaving behind the boredom that happens when much time is spent waiting for the next new convenience.

In this moment I feel the mist that moistens the deep dark eyes of the fawn, like in the moment before, yet without my knowing. In a quiet kitchen, steam from my coffee dances on warm toast. I break my fast without reverence, without the mist that touches all things.

It is not my first instinct to let such mist dance in my heart and soul.

With your dew soaked invitation I release into the mist. It swirls through my heart, mind and soul showing me that love is pervasive and ever present.

Memories gift me with sadness. Feeling the mist freely dancing with in places that gift before me. Its wrappings untouched I walk.

A dry wind comes to where mist swirled and floated. Again I am idle, less comfortable yet more at home. Another silent breakfast hot coffee warm toast, consuming with out nourishment. Words read, lists plot and name tomorrow's should. My body feeds its self while my mind reads yesterdays news.

I do not notice the unopened gift from which the dry dusty air flows. Submerged in hollow solitude, my dismembered isolation is as veiled to me as this gift of sadness is obscured by its wrappings?

The dust I choose to see has been my home. In absence of comparison dust becomes mist with a questioning feeling that if followed leads to the gift-wrapped in sadness.

What is this fear wrapped gift? What blessings could there be in such an obstacle? To unveil the mist, this dense box must be opened.

Dry wind blowing from its obscured interior blinds me. Apprehension burns my hands as I tug on its bow. Long deep breaths cool my hands as I acknowledge this unfolding.

Tears come, gathering along my lashes, witnessing truth, cleansing my vision. Falling from my lashes my tears herald the mist. As my acceptance blooms, mist grows thick around me.

Looking into the box my ego's reflex to fire a spit hurling yell releases into a deep cleansing exhale. Such protests I am spent in making.

Standing deep in rushing water the mist blooms deep with in me. My heart opens to the cleansing waters of rebirth.

Fawn, I come to your calling, answering an invitation penned in my own hand, Delivered in the mist of morning through the depths of your eyes.

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