A Sunday Short: Two mornings

Two originals.

Photo by dominik hofbauer on Unsplash

Morning I

i rose today before the sun
to witness the end of darkness.
i believed that was the purpose of 
the light.

such the illusion,
for i discovered something deeper.

in seeing the light, 
in wanting to see the end of dark,
i saw with greater clarity,
and distinction,
the shadows that the light also brings.

and in such seeing,
i also discovered 
that dark is the midwife
of life—

light’s twin.  

where is your dark?
do you have the bravery
to allow light inside
so others can see?
and braver still,
so you can see,
there,
your own shadows?

what other way might you have,
after all,
that proves you are
alive?
that you are an
imperfect being
worthy, 
so worthy, 
of love?

Photo by Aziz Acharki on Unsplash

Morning II

there is a time before the dawn
when color does not exist.
i witnessed this on this pre-dawn morning.
and i felt at home.

i do not know why i felt that way,
in the morning absence of color.
no green on trees,
no yellow on buds,
no red on black bird wings,
or butterflies,
or the side of the garden shed slicked with rain water.

yet.

maybe that’s the point.
the knowledge of color and the feeling of grey
both exist fleetingly in the not-welcomed anticipation of sun;
especially when i have not planned
the hours to come; 
when the folly of this awareness is not painted over
by the coming day.
and so I pause a few more moments
to notice and to try to stop time.

then it dawns on me. 

i have no choice but to let it come; 
just as the sun will come to paint
the world in its luminous hues
all too quickly. 
i will return again to my blindness,
and forget appreciation, by just not quite noticing
the colors of the world. 

this is always my loss. 

there is comfort in the quiet grey solitude before the dawn;
so different from  
the busyness of human concern,
the overwhelming kaleidoscope of color.

Photo by Oliver Hihn on Unsplash

Live, Laugh, and Love

Always and Ubuntu,

~ k

And with Ahimsa!

🙏🏼

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