So often it slips away unnoticed by many, but those who know its medicinal magic seek it out. Cradled in the lonely remnants of the dark night where sorrow hovers like an ancient dream too complicated to comprehend, a blushing thinness appears over the sleeping hills.
Just when you thought hope had been smothered by the lingering heaviness of standstill time when your soul is clenched to ward off despair, it winks a deep pink so enticing you can't help but be pulled into its promise. A feast for your eyes. Salve for the spirit. At the very same moment when the pink blush smiles into a broader swath of pastel tangerine and touches the darkness all around turning it into a tangled blue, a choir harkens....no words, just a welcoming invitation to sit in the rising passion of dawn.
If only it could last forever, held captive by a living snapshot. But we know it would fade away into a outdated design. We would grow tired of its beauty. Besides, hope never remains still. Its very nature carries us forward in its inspiration.
We are kissed by the joy of a sunrise and rejoice in its loveliness. Its softening warmth is sweeter when we have waited on the wings with the lights down low. Let it lift you up into its arms away from despair, to show you a new day.....fresh with no mistakes.
Let your gaze be beautiful.....and know there is always a hand to hold. The sun RISES this morning and I sit in the darkness with You and notice.
Let the miracle of the day bathe you in comfort.