I’ve reblogged this on magicofstories.net
As the sun rose and the darkness faded the sky took on a burnished amber hue.
Birds started to welcome the dawn with the melody of their chorus.
I breathed in the sharp crispness of the morning air and looked up, a few wispy clouds hung motionless in the stratosphere.
It was such a fresh, bright morning, I predictably recalled the hymn ‘Morning has broken’; in this instance, my mind heard it being sung by Cat Stevens. I half-consciously found myself humming along, (out of tune of course.)
This was soon followed by the voice of Bob Marley and ‘Three little birds’. I smiled inwardly as I realised both of these voices were inside my head and I wondered why on earth we become so full of angst when someone admits to hearing voices in their own minds, or indeed fearful if they inhabit our own?
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