The morning light pours, chasing away moody shadows of night. In an unknown field in the midst of nowhere a handful of unknown grass stretch lazily, their limber bodies yawn with exhaustion of dawn. A new day has come, and they must wake to its welcome.
I gather all my might and raise my face to the light. It warms me, and every inch of my existence awakens with heat of hope, after surviving the long, cold night. The unknown grass trembles beneath at my warming weight, and I squeeze my flowing heart to stay still, teetering at the brink of oblivion, drinking in the dawn, blinking rapidly, holding myself high, hoping to be taken by the light before it is too late.
So there I am, teetering still.
About to fall, or take flight.
The sun just cleared the horizon.