Stepping Outside At The Break Of Dawn

Stepping outside at the break of dawn,
the sky blushes in hues of apricot and rose,
as if the horizon itself whispers a prayer to the night.
I am greeted by the sweet melodies of birds—
sparrows, thrushes, larks—their voices stitching the silence
into a tapestry of dawn. They sing the sun awake,
its amber eye peering over the mountains’ stoic shoulders,
spilling liquid gold across the valleys below.

Their hymns ripple through the forests,
a chorus that stirs the ancient pines and oaks
from their ink-dark dreams. Branches stretch, creaking,
as leaves unclasp their shadows, trembling
with the memory of starlight. The wind carries secrets—
of moss-kissed stones and roots that hum underground,
threading the earth’s quiet pulse into the air.

The hush of night dissolves into motion—
bees hum in golden light, their wings gilding the breeze,
while butterflies, cloaked in saffron and indigo,
drift like painted dreams. They alight on wildflowers
that unfurl their sleepy petals, each bloom a lantern
lit from within. The meadows shimmer, jeweled
with dew-kissed splendor, as if the stars, retreating,
left fragments of their glow trembling on the grass.
Every blade sways, a green violin string
plucked by the rhythm of the waking earth.

In gardens, flowers greet each other softly—
peonies bow their crimson heads, lilies brush
their ivory cheeks against the marigolds’ flame.
Their fragrances mingle: jasmine’s breath, rosemary’s spice,
a silent liturgy rising on the dawn. Petal to petal,
they exchange blessings, their roots interlaced beneath the soil,
a hidden web of kinship. Nearby, the river murmurs
its eternal verses, silver syllables gliding over stones,
each ripple a stanza in the cosmic song.

The world awakens—humans and creatures alike.
A fox pauses at the wood’s edge, her fur tipped with frost-fire;
a child presses palms to window glass, breath fogging the pane.
We blink in wonder at the unfolding miracle—
the alchemy of darkness into light, the ordinary made sacred.
What a breathtaking gift to witness, to be woven
into this story older than time, yet new as this moment’s breath!

As I inhale the crisp morning air, sharp with pine and soil,
the pulse of the universe courses through me—
a trillion cells humming in fractal harmony,
each heartbeat an echo of the first cosmic drum.
Gratitude floods my veins, love swells like a tide,
for this vast and precious cosmos, where every atom
spins in celestial dance. The divine tapestry shimmers—
not above or beyond, but here: in the spider’s web,
the river’s hymn, the arc of a swallow’s flight.

This beauty, this radiance—
it is the face of Al-Haq, the Ever-True,
a mirror held to eternity. The same light
that kindles the sun pools in my cupped hands,
the same breath that sways the willow stirs my lungs.
And as I stand here in awe, I dissolve, then expand—
no longer a witness, but the song itself.
For the divine is my essence, the stars my ancestors,
and I, too, am a brushstroke in this boundless wonder,
a note in the dawn’s eternal refrain.

MyKoul