Isn't it true that before the dawn
The land is covered with mist?
Haven't you noticed that after the storm
The haze still persists?
This is the moment of creation,
A place filled with imagination.
And where the sun hits
All you can see are patterns in the mist,
Barely a memory before they're gone.
And when the wind blows,
The patterns start to ebb and flow
And dissipate before the coming dawn.
Though the light is dim, I still can see
You sleeping there so peacefully.
Are you dreaming? Do you know why
Your every smile brings a tear to my eye?
Let me take you to the window.
Let me show you what I know:
That when the sun hits
All I can see are patterns in the mist,
Dazzling art from Nature's unseen hand.
That where the wind blows
The patterns shift and part to show
Nature's masterpiece painted all across the land.
Oh why, can someone tell me why
These patterns can only hope to die?
Please, does someone understand
Why they falter at the touch of my hand?
Help me, I only want to know:
Why must the wind continue to blow?
Is there a way these patterns can be
Saved for eternity?
My child, though it hurts me to say
The winds will soon blow the mists away.
Treasure the beauty while the sun yet remains.
Each day look around you and find
Those patterns hidden from the blind
And in them Nature's beauty contains.
Remember them for only in memory
Can patterns last for eternity,
And when the sun hits
All of us are simply patterns in the mist,
Pushing against the winds of time.
And where the wind touches us
New patterns begin to rise from the dust.
My child, grow, and soon you, too, will shine.
February 6, 1994
Steve Morgan