Not an Answer

I awoke from a dream I neither liked nor wanted.
I went for a run to encapsulate the anger,
The only form of drumming I enjoy,
Full-body, rhythmically pounding.

I knew it was too early for the sun, so I expected
Nothing.

I could fling out my questions in the grey light,
And receive back nothing but confusion.
How fitting.

Then all changed.

Without a visible sun, or any change on the ground,
Glimmers of orange-red lit the tops of the ugly pines,
Turning this mundane stretch of road
Into a vision of complementary colors,
Far above reach.

I could not change it. I could not enter it.
But I could pass through it, and
Watch in thankfulness and awe.

The light is coming.
It is not an answer.
But it is enough.