Monday, October 12, 2009

The World Cries Loudest In the Morning...

What bliss it is to be able to sit with a cup of freshly brewed tea and write about the glories of the world.

There is seldom a prettier sight than the first echoes of light singing into the sky to announce the coming of the sun. It happens not once or twice a year, but every morning of every day this world will ever know. I pity the man who has never risen early enough to breath the sun as it clips the mountain tops and saturates the air.
And it is during this time, when the sun is making its first appearance for the day, that the world cries the loudest. It is during this time of peace and solitude when everything has yet to rise that the world sings its sweet melodies. What better time to appreciate the stillness than now? What better time to grasp the purity of this fragile new-born day? It is during this time that one's breathing, movement, and thought process reduce their speed until they match the tempo of the rising planet.
And so begins a day.
But it is at that time of day when all is alive, all is awake, and all is busy, that the voice of life is most absent...not absent, but inaudible. In the background, behind the constant thrum of soles upon the concrete, little messengers cry out to be heard. They appear as things unseen until we take the time to stop, breathe, and slow our souls to match their heartbeat. A moment such as this never goes unrewarded. It is as if the small majesties of life can feel the synchronization of the human heart to their own, and upon making the connection, jump at the opportunity to make themselves apparent to the individual who has stepped into their world. Often times such an event occurs involuntarily, when one slips into a state of brief contentment or stillness without being aware of the transition. And it is at these times when a small smile will grace their lips, and they will, even if only for one brief moment, remember the purity of life.
For as dirty as this life constantly seems amidst the rank attitudes of our fellow humans and the ever present wash of filth, there is still beauty to be found in all the in betweens.

Look for it.
You will find it, I promise.
And when you find it, remind someone else that it exists.
Because they may need it as much as you do.

Profundus Sententia Ex Cunabula

1 comment:

  1. You sound a lot like me when I was your age. Actually, I find that I do not really sound so different now. I see your flair for writing. Good to keep at it. Sharing your joy enlivens the day. Puts the frosting on it.