How different the sunset looks from the barred hospital windows.
How the colors of the sky, the orange and purple reflection on the clouds that are close to bursting with tears differ in their intangible distance and yet, how more meaningful is the rise of the sun and the arrival of dawn whose rhythmic footsteps are heard with the light rays that peer through the barred windows and sarcastic colorful hues of the thick curtains.
How amazingly distant the dimmed street lamps appear, who are not yet gone, reminding that there is a night, although temporarily gone, will return for another rotation upon the axis of life.
How slowly do the freshly awakened humans appear to walk upon the asphalts of their every desire, longing, hope, aim.
How slowly they seem to walk towards their destination, how ordinary do they appear to have awakened from their perhaps dreamless sleep.
They walk, slowly as the sun continues to rise, although she appears to walk far more slowly than the beings below, upon another glance the street lamps are gone and dawn is smiling due to its victorious success upon the street lamps who symbolize the illuminating darkness of night.
How painfully simple do the beings who are so small from the hospital windows of this tall man-made building appear to breath the fresh air.Somehow it feels as though they have made light of the glorious dawn and yet who are they?
No more than mortal creatures who ignorantly, blindly overlook the intolerable beauty of the rising day.
Who are they but mortal beings whose every purpose in life is to question what is, has been, and will be.
Do they not realize that every step, every breath, every light ray observed with their eyes is a glory, a gift?
Are they not overjoyed to behold such treasures?
To walk upon the concrete and with their shoes footstep another moment in time?
Are they not satisfied to have, to hold another breath of freedom?
They all are imprisoned!
Imprisoned by their own greed, bound by their own ambitions, limited by their own imagination, threatened by their own creations, subconsciously haunted, suffocated by their own questions!
How is it that they are capable of walking, yet thinking of such unworthy, unearthly matters?
Do they not realize the importance of their lives?
I sit upon the unfamiliar bed and am dismayed by the simplicity by which they leave behind another step, another breath, another moment of another day; but who am I to judge, criticize, question their choices?
Am I not another mortal driven insane by my own creations?
Imprisoned, locked up by my own gratification?
Who am I then to question their neglection of their every breath of freedom when I myself have spent the beginning of another day observing their slow pace, not realizing that I too have just wasted another dawn questioning, doubting, bounding myself deeper, digging farther towards answers that are unattainable, unachievable, not designed to be discovered in this destructive imperfect existence?
Who am I to be scorned, to regret that they have made light of another day who is racing away?
Am I not another mortal driven insane by my desire for immortality?
Have I not somehow as well overlooked, neglected, wasted another dawn?