The Beauty Of The Day

There is a time, right before the sun comes over the horizon, when the day still is perfect. Still in the womb of Mother Night, not yet exposed to the world. 

With a blaze of light and a flash of brilliance, you see the dawn. Beauty amplified a thousand times over in that each ray refracted is a different hue.

Higher in the sky it climbs, the day's activities moving about below it unbeknownst to it. Lives begin and end under it's rule and still it sees or does nothing to prevent this.

Allowing us to see it's true and awesome might, the sun sets on the horizon, a vastness of beauty that the mind has trouble comprehending. Then, as if a switch were thrown, so begins the night.

The deep purples and seemingly endless arrays of blacks and grays coat the sky like a shroud, keeping it concealed as if there were great works being done man cannot yet see.

The moon shines bright, like a silver bar in the water. It rises to unspeakable heights, shining brighter and brighter as it goes. Suddenly it starts a dizzying decent.

Yet, before it reaches the bottom of it's nightly trail, the feeling that a cycle is both beginning and ending festers in the mind and heart. So we see again all the beauty of the day.