When life gives you lemons, make sure you sell all the shitty lemonade for a good profit.
In the deepest part of night
So deep, the birds do not yet chirp at the rising dawn
So dark, a single tiny unfocused light is enough to navigate even the dimmest room
So quiet, the house at final rest, the living a-slumber
When your mind is both not and nothing but itself
That is when the stories come.
On fevered footsteps, on mumbled whispers hovering at the edges of perception
On senses overwrought and dulled, waiting in fear and anticipation
You listen to a tale you never wake up from.
After all, how can you awaken when you are already awake?
So deep, the birds do not yet chirp at the rising dawn
So dark, a single tiny unfocused light is enough to navigate even the dimmest room
So quiet, the house at final rest, the living a-slumber
When your mind is both not and nothing but itself
That is when the stories come.
On fevered footsteps, on mumbled whispers hovering at the edges of perception
On senses overwrought and dulled, waiting in fear and anticipation
You listen to a tale you never wake up from.
After all, how can you awaken when you are already awake?