Dawn

The voice of dawn is stilling. It silences the fear that makes my head hurt, my heart ache, my soul scream. The pain provoked by nightly visions of the past, the pain of the present, the fog of the future is softly swept away by the solitude of the new day wind, his hallowed song, the crisp snap of his first movements, cleanses my spirit’s unease, moves me in turn to my own song. I am a new day. I am an early morning. I am the first day. I shall hear the song of birds, and it will be the first time any ear hears that song. This is the first time any ear has ever heard the first stirrings of all life, and each time must be the first, for life is always new. This is my life, as all past life belonged to all past people, and was new, as all life to come belonging to all people to come shall be. I am new. I am early. No one has arrived yet in my life but me. Nothing has started, but there is much to be done. I am the first. I am the one to begin. So shalt I dawn, with the loveliness of early morning solitude, the beauty of the first breeze, the spirit of the new day. These are the first words spoken for the first time by the first soul in my life - me. They will ever be new. This is a new page, and so shall I always begin.

Brightly-spun blessings,
Lady Faemore