Splatters of Poetry

Rise

There are few things in this life more pleasant than watching the sun rise over the water. I have always known that creation was sacred, and sunrises pretty much prove my point. There is something about being awake while the rest of the world sleeps on. Something so fragile and perfect. Sometimes on these mornings, alone with God and the trees, I find myself almost paralyzed. Speechless and breathless I sit staring at the sky lest- I move and shatter the intimate silence.

Sunsets are more spectactular than sunrises though, and I'm not quite sure why. Sunsets are breathtaking and violent, a thousand fallen rainbows which lie bleeding in the sky. Sunsets are struggle and war and victory. Sunsets are the end. But sunrises- sunrises are different. Quite anticlimatic really, when you get right down to it. Sunrises are subtle, gentle; they never look quite like you expect them to. Sunrises are diluted, almost. Tentative and weak, it is hard at sunrise to believe the vengence of the noon-day heat. Maybe that's how it is with the big things of life. Maybe all things glorious and beautiful must come in like a whisper and out like a burning blaze of glory.

posted by Erin @ 5:25 PM