Voice To The Sky

I'm usually awake early. Almost always. Waiting for the sunrise, waiting to breathe in the morning, the newness of it all, the beginning of life. In these early hours I am often filled with an odd sense of contentment, with a subtle joy, and with a desire to reach into the soul of my surroundings. It is during these times that I am at my best. It's when I develope my life. It's where vision meets hope. It's where I am born. It is how I sustain myself.

The quiet of the dawn speaks clearly to me. It brings imagination, and it will not allow conflicting emotion to wage war for my attention. I find focus and invention. It is this foray into silence that enables me to live, to be a vibrant part of a beating heart much larger than my own. To be immersed in this flow of energy and vitality becomes, for me, the essence of consciousness. The birth of creation, the death of confusion. It becomes my friend. It is who I am.

Like lightening through a rod, I am empowered. Like a naked body on a beach soaking up the sun, enlivened and enlightened. I am relaxed. I am at peace from deep within myself, reaching forth to confront the walls surrounding me, to dissolve them at my touch. I can succeed in every moment. I can breathe in every obscure possibility. And exhale every doubt.

Morning always comes. At least it has so far. And it arrives without warning, in spite of its own inevitability. bringing with it a new freedom, if just for this one day. An ability to extend myself beyond myself, a freedom of expression. It is where life meets my expectation. It is where I fill my lungs and raise my voice to the sky. If it is possible, it is probable. If it is momentarily beyond my grasp my arms will grow to reach it.