Morning

Old wooden floors creak and groan
feeling so cold and hard upon my bare feet,
taste of morning extra biting
from leaving the living room window open
by accident all night.

Fog looms so thick and disquieting outside
the occasional strange sound of a moan
or muffled footsteps in its sheet of white
hinting at something eerie
that wraps my body
in a barb wire blanket of paranoia.

Still, I sit down at my computer,
letting my mind bathe in the pool
swimming with all the creatures and characters
who are my personal demons, dragons, angels and watchers.

My heart becomes a keyboard
playing the delicate lilting notes
singing into my head
creating images about a world of light
where senses have breath
and harp strings strum me with some special bliss.

Alone, each day I come to my inner piano
allowing the music to quiet reality,
that I might know more than fear and emptiness
for the sake of my sanity.