Breaths Between Heartbeats
It's during the quiet hours, just past dawn, where you can hear the world resetting itself. Birds tuck bits of sky under their wings; the last embers of night cling to the horizon as they yield to the sun’s slow ascension. There, in that sliver of time, life seems more like a ghost whispering promises of warmth — a promise you cling to as it soothes the morning chill.
In the calm, moments stretch — they lean, bend, and sometimes break into laughs only nature understands. A breeze kicks up the loose leaves and they scatter like childhood dreams forgotten along a well-trodden path. And as you walk, the warmth seeps into your bones, a slow invasion — but a welcome one that breathes alongside you.
This is where glint meets gleam, not in the flashy dance of light found in the city, but in subtlety. It’s in dew clinging to the edges of grass or in how sunlight breaks through tree canopies, each fragment a fleeting treasure. Perhaps it's the universe's way of saying that even in the mundane, there’s poetry waiting to be unveiled.