Ephemeral

Some mornings ooze magic. I don’t know how or why but I neither need nor want to know. I only know that when it happens I’m in love with life. In such moments as if everything is a part of me and I’m a part of everything; and I dissolve in it in a harmonious unity. And of course those words make no sense because reason can’t explain the beauty of special moments.

Sometimes it's a beautiful mess in my head.