The yolk of the morning burst upon me in a thousands shades of gold. The birds sang odes to it reverently. Morning greeted me.
However, a faint, whirring noise issued from a distant land. I tore my eyelids apart with considerable effort, and stirred my stone-heavy limbs. The light blinded me as I turned towards the window. The sun had outdone me, yet again.
I rose with a heavy sigh of resignation. I was always defeated as I attempted to compete with the sun.
I never came to know how I was always outdone in this world. My world always allowed me to have as many sunrises and sunsets, adventures and mysteries as I pleased. But this world always outdid me in every aspect and interest.
Coming to interests, they lay in a dormant field; barren and boring. However, young fantasies reveled in a surprisingly large population. The coolness of a daydream seemed miles away. Cool winds blew at my face as disguised temptresses; however, the heart lay in its place, as dull as ever.
Aimlessly, my heart wandered through the forests of bright stars. My arms stretched towards the auroral radiance, yet, failed to reach it.
My eyes closed lazily, yet again, and I drifted into a an easy sleep full of lethargy and rejuvenation (or so I hoped).
Flights of Fantasy 