New Starts.

New starts are mornings; whether pristine and clear, wrapped up in fogs or amateur mists, veiled by the rain or lastly overcast by clouds— so many of them that it hurts to see the sky.

New starts are mistakes. The most excruciating of them. The nights in which guilt and remorse lingers and gnaws at your soul— they are the new starts when you decide to dust them away, with a spring in your step and grace in your fluttering eyelids.

A new start is moving on. A haunting memory perhaps, nibbling on your conscience, invading your dreams. Perhaps it could be the loss of memory all together; snippets of times here and there, not remembering what to be grateful for, not reminding yourself of what’s important and what should be held on to. But it’s a new start when presence starts to be acknowledged, and every collision of the air molecules starts to make sense— it’s a new start.

A new start is a new season— be it grey winters, green springs, blue summers or maroon autumns. A new shade of colour on your skin due to differing sun orientations, the way your bed looks with its lifted or added layers of blankets, the afternoons prolonged or dimmed with the arrival of twilight.

A new start is a perception away, for we were given every day with sleep in between, to block the noise of the olden times, to dream them inspiring dreams, wake up in the morning and—

It’s up to you to choose how to complete the sentence, though I hope you choose to rise anew, hopeful and alive.