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Missing Miracles.

It is morning. My eyes peer open to a fresh new day; it is already bright outside. I have missed the darkness as it turned to light - with the rise of the Sun over the Western world. This has been a regular occurrence over ten thousand times, in my life so far. And yet, I have only ever experienced the magic of this event, twice. But, I hardly even pause to consider the beauty which passed me by as I slept, as my thoughts turn to a logical assimilation of organizing a basic structure, of the day ahead.

I lay silently in bed for five minutes, listening to varying groups of birds as they pleasantly coo and chirp in a language my conscious mind has no need to understand, from great distances upon all forms of trees, buildings, and areas of sky. The piercing screech of the alarm clock, and the ever growing roar of car engines, direct me away from the outside tones of nature. I exit the comfort of my bed, as I run a bath, switch on a kettle, and ready myself to find victory in the day ahead. It is only now - when I consider these moments, how these are the minutes of the day, in which I am fully at peace - as I let them slide away, so quickly.

I leave home, as my feet carry me towards my desired destination. The skies darken and the clouds open, as a thunderous, heavy rain streams down from the greying clouds upon the Earth. I quickly scatter for a form of man-made shelter, in order to find haven from the heavens above me. I remember the minimal instances in which the rain implicitly defeated my lack of shelter - as nature soaked my clothes and skin like a fierce, pounding waterfall. I spend the remainder of the day immersed in my personal business, believing the distance is carrying me to the miracle I have searched my entire life. As I do, I habitually allow hundreds of strangers to pass a mere matter of inches from my existence - never once raising my head, to discover a new and unique viewpoint of a soul, who lives in a day which belongs to us all, searching for miracles of their own.

As my tired mind and feet both carry a slight despondency and emptiness, I finally reach home.  And, as the same Sun which I missed arise only sixteen hours ago, decides to say goodnight; as the light turns back to the darkness it was born from, and it sets below the houses and trees in the distance, I remain oblivious, as I chew on a reduced price Chicken Salad from Boots, as I sit before my laptop, reading and constructing historical theories of a universe which sits right outside my window - which my eyes never once care to gaze outside.

The day is almost over. I am sad, lonely, and upset that life has ignored my calls for a magical sight to hit me between the eyes; I wonder if God has managed to forget I even exist at all. And yet, as I ponder this notion, while I lay in the calm serenity of my bed. I think back upon every moment of beauty I allowed myself to miss out on; the silent language of two baby strangers in the supermarket, the fly on the wall, the whistling wind blowing against the aging wooden fence in my garden, the feel of the pillow as my head rests upon it. It is also in watching darkness vanish, light falling, letting nature drench me in water, and in simply letting forever be.

I then understand how every person I avoided, may also have carried the miracle I was searching for, as much as I may have held portions of theirs. In a solitary day, I wondered where the sights I would never forget were hiding. In one single moment, I realize they are all around me; I just need to stop trying so hard not to see them.

Tomorrow, I will remind myself not to miss the miracles again... but only as I lay in the calm serenity of my bed, and try to set my alarm a little earlier.

Lee.

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