It is dark outside.
The world is sleeping.
The mountains silent.
Dark
clouds drawn over the valley.
Keeping those contained safe and
oblivious.
A soul stirs and wakes, unable to be kept oblivious.
He looks outside
and sees darkness and an oppressing cover of clouds and longs to go
back to sleep.
But he knows he cannot, he has somewhere to be.
As he embarks on his journey, the world is about to wake up.
Deer are feeding. Elk are meandering about in search for food and peace in the last minutes of the
night.
He leaves the still sleeping mountains behind him.
Ahead of him the world
is waking up.
Streaks of crimson intertwined with bright orange.
The sun is not to be seen,
but its arrival is imminent.
Blinding colors slowly creep toward the sleeping
valley, about to wake its subjects.
He feels privileged.
No other soul has escaped the mountain slumber.
He is witness to something special and breathtaking: the birth of a
new day, filled with new joys and beauty.
He witnesses its birth and has become one with it.
He claims the day
for himself, and becomes one with it.
Tonight he will release the day to
its Creator, to be faded away, awaiting its rebirth tomorrow.
For now, the day is his.
He is the day.
And he will share it with you,
if you will join him.
Gerard Beekmans