One peculiar morning

So there in the wee hours when a pale light of dawn turns the world surreal things happen.
Where the cool wind collides with consciousness lay a place of the strange forge.
To hammer into shape the dreams of the true and the thoughts of the mad.
A place of the morning mist that taints a cold heart with the warmth of ignorance.
Let us take comfort. I will have solace.
Solace!
For I just don't know.
All that's beyond me gets along fine without my comprehension.
May it be so.
Let all that is misunderstood and these beasts not yet fathomed pass before me in parade.
I have but to wonder at the mystery in the soft light of dawn.
But this particular morning I shall not wonder. I am content to bask in the pale light and the strange peace that it brings.