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Rising Sun

Dawn gleams through the trees, sprinkling bits of gold and warm yellow over the earth. The sun begins its slow ascent into the sky, warm rays reflecting off of the fresh dew. The September world has yet to denounce summer and each tree still proudly wears her green leaves.

Light seeps into view chasing away shadows and penetrating the thick night. It bends around obstacles, twisting and turning before piercing its final destination. There is something so painfully sharp yet so delicate about the first light of day, it does not coat everything like the midday sun and only touches a few surfaces. This light is a form of gold so precious it is impossible to hold, only the earth can wear this form of jewelry.

Mist slips out of the forest and up from the ground, gently coating the world in a veil of mystery. The formless, white screen softens the features perceivable to the eye. Without fail the sun has risen again, pushing back the night and opening up a blanket of warm light over everything. The dark sky lightens to a soft blue with tinges of pink near the horizon. Not a cloud is in sight as the sun creeps further into view.

Soon the golden rays of sunrise will subside and the golden hour will be replaced by the harshness of middle day.

Morning is one of the most magical periods of time that happens every twenty-four hours. Night is slipped off and the morning glow is dawned. Anything and everything is possible, there is room for new beginnings and there is a perfect opportunity to start over.

Dawn is beautiful and it brings about a new day, but dawn is also a reminder.

It is a reminder that after every sunset, after every ending, there may be a period of time when the world turns dark, but without fail the sun rises again. The beams of pure gold push back the night and paint the world with vivid colors. Dawn is the start of everything and anything.

After every night there will always be a dawn.

After every ending there will always be a beginning.

“Varavīksne”
(Rainbow)

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