into the light

And quite suddenly, the sun comes.

You're looking out over the open ocean, perhaps, or a range of mountains, or some other open space. Looking out into the distance, out to the East. You're stamping your feet against the cold, perhaps. Blowing on your fingers, feeling kind of giddy. Because you are up early, mindfully. To see something extraordinary. To be a witness to light,

rising.

You see the clouds change first. They are the heralds. They hark and marvel at the light. They stream in pinks and golds. Streaks of change, the idea of it, marking the sky.

Then, there, just over the horizon. It comes in a glimmer to begin with.
Slowly, slowly, a band of light appears. A glow.

Something, here and now, is happening.
Something is possible.
Something different.

Something magical.

Suddenly it is here.


The sun appears.

Bold. Glorious. New.


And the sky shouts.

Light! Light!

Light arising!


The birds wheel and marvel; they careen into that blue like daredevils.

Light! they call.

Light arising!


And there you are. Tiny. Awestruck. Standing, watching, your mouth open, your heart lifting. Because you are witness, here and now.  To something extraordinary. You could watch this every day and you would never stop marvelling, being thankful, feeling blessed.

You press yourself into the light—it opens its arms and lets you in.

Peace be with you,

on this special day of ones,

and beginnings!

Peace be rising.

Peace be by your side.