On the Morning of the Dawn of My Life
On the morning of the dawn of my life, I wake
into a world where I am good, and I am loved,
and every passing moment of it is called
Miracle,
without need for such words,
known unspoken even as we speak them.
In rich awakening of the senses, I call with
the new creatures of the world,
pulled from the great darkness into existence and told to breathe.
Again, and again. How sweet, how enduring—
that golden undercurrent flowing beneath it all.
That moment of outstretched arms, in greeting and in reverence.
I have knelt before a hearth gone cold and dreamt of fire. That is to say,
I have stood warmed by the Sun of my life and made it my faith.
Again, and again. Inherent and rhythmic as
the breath
or the dawn,
let me pray each night for sunlight
and wake in gratitude,
once more.
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