There is a grace in nature
which heals the broken-hearted
by the gentle rays of the morning sun,
the melodic swaying of the trees,
an overdose of beauty which fills
the heart with awe and tenderness
for the power which tries so hard
to please us all.
It’s only far away from the bustling cities
and utilitarian traces of humanity
that I can feel the cosmos wishing us well.
It’s only there that I can begin to feel
at ease again.
Morning in all its golden glory is
the most precious time of day.
It’s God whispering to us that we
matter so much to her that she created the sun
for us, and she created winter
so that the first rays of this golden light
would delight us forever.
This, of course, is a questionable thought
which only fresh mornings such as these
can possibly justify.