Thermoregulation/Deregulation

In the wee hours of the morning, all lights shine with the same level of determination. Indetermination, such as it were.

In sadness my thoughts have not left me, they have twanged me as though I were a guitar string. Wakefulness is curiously easier to come by in this state.

My perception, honestly, has waned, slightly, but so have the leaves of our plant. Though it stands, honored and high, it reaches ever lower, to give lie to the notion that we are not at it's mercy.