I loved the look of the dawn in the mountains when camping, a long band of pale light along the horizon pushing up against the dark and gloom. It was uplifting to see how the light could dispel the dark every day. The way it crept behind the clouds and filled in all the corners of the sky. How the light could look especially bright against a ceiling of heavy, dark clouds. The two of them, light and dark, upstairs / downstairs neighbors. Brushstrokes in a Rothko.

But there were plenty of days that saw none of that, they were just dark and gray. And that made these days even more special, a sunrise like that. They were throwbacks to the epic dawns I’d witnessed in an alpine setting as I broke camp in the dark. Being alone in the middle of nowhere with just you and the sky and surrounding hills.

We were all made of light and dark too. So the dawn let us know that’s one way this could end or one way it could begin, depending upon your point of view.

Categories: Poetry, prose

Tags: inspiration, mindfulness, Poetry, spirituality