The scent of morning is fresh. I am refreshed by the scent of the new day, which is everyday. Everyday refreshes me, and as I awaken to become once more so to must I refreshen my days, so that all are dawns, so that all are the first days. Fresh, new and untouched. The scent of morning is mysterious. It takes me to fresh water bodies and early morning mists, beside sacred earth which my feet are the first to touch, rolling over the fire of the dawn of my spirit. The fire is fresh, the fire is new, and the dawn is me. I am spirit. I am the mystery of the morning. I am forever, yet forever new, forever fresh, forever the first. From the darkness of night, the darkness of sleep, from behind closed eyes ever opening, it is our will to rise, bright and beautiful, like the morning star, over the shadowed cliffs of yesterday. It is our will to be as the morning air - unscented but sweet, crisp and yielding, ever mysterious, ever fresh, as each new dawn, as every new day, as all life. So mote it be.
Brightly-spun blessings,
Lady Faemore
No comments:
Post a Comment