The overcast sky stretches on for what seems an eternity; seems all-encompassing; seems forever.
There are no pockets of blue, no promise of sun, no warmth on my skin; just the malaise of a solid grey, sleep- or anxiety-inducing blanket.
This is not what I expected.
And it feels forever to come.
My heart drops, panics, fears, and shutters as my brain fights to remind it of the joy of the sun, the smiles it inspires, the creaking of winter skin being kissed by it, the warm hugs, and creatures of the clouds darting about it.
My head knows it will change, knows it will come, thinks it and prays it.
This, too, has purpose. This, too, is important. This, too, refines, perfects, enhances, releases, births, and brings glory.
As quick as the grey consumes, the grey recedes as well. The light turns on just as quickly as it turns off. The heavy, sleep- or anxiety-inducement lifts in an instant.
But until then, my heart wrestles under the blanket.