Early Hours

Early hours:

these early hours are cherished, but not more than other moments of the day, just quietly so, as if they belong to only a few and we are joined in a collective hush between us, a reverence of this lingering silence as it slowly gives way to the business of the day.These are the moments that urge me to listen to more subtle sounds now, to hear the world wake yet still retain its silent hold, a reminder that this stillness remains true throughout the day and only seems to fade to greater sounds. Listening, I come to realize that these early hours are my own, more so within me than actual marks of time, available to any moment given pause and allowed to unfold without my rush of interference. 

these are all cherished hours.

it's this pause, sacred really, that gives notice to how seamless it all is, everything, and only seems more evident in the in early hours, how the hushed sounds and slow rise of light urges a more contemplative start to the day. What's noticed now is how everything exists at once, that dawn is not the retiring of night, nor the beginning of a new day, but a display of true becoming, one thing lending itself to the appearance of another, so at ease within its nature that it allows for scenery to change, a gain of prominence of some particular points, and yet never fearing for its own disappearance. 

so it is with all of life, seamless too, and available to observe. Indeed, these are all cherished hours, seasons, all moments of this demonstration. Yet I reserve these early hours for my notice, not at the expense of other times throughout the day, but simply for its ease, that night still retains its quiet hold within me now, light still hours from appearance, sensed, not quite ready to reveal itself beyond a tiny reach of essence. 

these early hours, seamless, reveal my very own nature, I am witness to my dawn as well as darkness settling, two points of my true expression. What's shown is that nothing is ever really hidden, that day becomes only through the slow revolution of the world, light itself is constant, and allows itself shadows to hide, night for resting shade, and perhaps dawn for just these early hours to be gifted, cherished in their arrival. This is what I wake for, quietly listening, touched by first light given to the day. It's the time I give most notice and carry it as a reminder through each moment after. 

every instant is a dawn of it's own,

worthy of this notice. 

~

Peace, Eric