They're wild, free, and very rebellious.
They don't bend, they're inflexible.
Though the days and nights are polluted,
Morning air is always fresh.
When they attempt to break your soul, it's the hardest for them to achieve in the mornings.
Morning sun supports in putting up the fight.
Mornings are real, raw, and very sharp.
You can't mess with the mornings, they mean business.
I'm not hyped about sunsets like most people are, nor do I chase them.
Give me an eternity of sunrises and I'll be as happy as can be.
When leaving this earth plane and when asked about the best it offered, my answer would be:
Newborn babies, thunderstorms, cold showers, my father's hands, and sunrises...
I'm sitting in my summertime sunrise spot this morning on the terrace, I captured it with a picture. It won't be long before it disappears behind the building. By then, like every autumn and spring, it shines through the opening in the wall facing my front door. I sometimes open the door to let it shine through, but often times, I like to capture its light through the door's peep hole.
Though we want to consume that which and whom we love completely, it isn't necessary. A fraction of the whole suffices. The rising of the day, a moment in the rising, a bit of sunshine, one casual picture, few moments of contemplation, few long and deep breaths, one heartfelt prayer, one truthful wish, one good-intented action, only one real human being, one heart warming memory!...
Essence is all that's left and kept after each chapter passes. And isn't this whole existence but a mere chapter unfolding and soon to be over so we can turn the page, and write its summary!?
