When the
inky night leaks away and the morning glories start their swelling, a familiar
humming billows up and I stir. This
melody of sorts, it was being knit together, all the long night. Like a fairy orchestra, wispy with night dew
and moonbeams, it has danced in and around our sleepy heads. The pink and coral sunrise becomes its
crescendo and I wake.
I move
amongst the early light, quietly padding across the tile, furtively pouring my
coffee, plopping myself in front of a glowing screen. I have stolen these hours from myself,
the ones that once offered the deepest sleep and the most creative dreams, in
order to hone a craft. I come to this
space hoping to quell the voices that spin doubt and distrust throughout my
head and my heart and my life. Every
morning I pray that the opening of my everything
will bleed truth upon the page and I
will find clarity and redemption once again.
That is the plan, at least.
Want to read more? Then join me as I guest post over at Micha Boyett's blog: Mama Monk.
Gorgeous writing. So glad I found your space from Micha's blog. I had a similar morning (really a string of similar mornings) and have been struggling to turn my cumbersome boat around for a better perspective. Thanks.
ReplyDeleteSo glad you found your way here, too. You are welcome anytime.
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