unfocused eyes and the things partially seen

Waking at the point between middle of the night and early morning, sights are often misleading. Shadows move in slithers and tangles, appearing more alive and more dangerous. Accompanied by silence or muted by dew, the ominous feeling of being unprepared for an encounter tensions your nerves like a struck piano string.

But at this point in the night, your thoughts seem to go untuned, capacity for visual acuity like a flattened shaded disc rather than a well lighted orb. Some sort of retuning with the world must occur as a process of waking- you might have died in your wake did it not. Each tuning fork struck in accordance with your mind to guide your patterns for the day into a smoothed harmony. But the more of these harmonious days that occur, the more they start to align with ones natural resonance frequency. Upon resonance, something breaks.

There is something to breaking up monotony. Gregorian chants didn't change key, and there's a reason we don't have them catalogued in our spotify playlists. Harmony is misleading.

Those things you only partially see in the grasp of night, with blurry eyes and muddled thought, those are still happening throughout the rest of your day. You just happen to be tuned to the frequency everyone else is harmonizing towards - and their blurry-eyed shadow chasing could lead you off the same cliff they will soon fall from.

The things partially seen feel scary. They feel uncertain. The things clearly seen are never truly so; they just don't scare us like they should.