Dawn

This morning rises feeling like one You made. The sun shines unhindered. Birds sing. Warmth promises to visit the world.

"Tell of His glory among the people, for great is the Lord and greatly to be praised. He is to be feared above all gods. The gods of the people are idols, but the Lord made the heavens. Splendor and majesty are before Him, strength and beauty in His sanctuary. Ascribe to the Lord glory and strength. Ascribe to the the Lord the glory of His name." Psalm 96:3-7

How silly it is to think that the world could have made itself. The obvious tendency of the world is to degrade, for its systems to break down over time. How could it simultaneously build itself up?

The entire creation falls from somewhere, then. It began as perfect when You made it; You, who are yourself perfect. Even today, so glorious in its radiant warmth and clarity, the sun crawls toward burnout. Even today, when my own body moves without apparent pain or disease, cells die and do not renew themselves.

Beauty exists here as an ideal alone. We know it only as part of what You intended for us, a glorious remnant, a wistful longing. You must reign or it collapses for lack of definition. You support and uphold what slowly wastes away in the same way You support our reaching spirits. This is why we hope in You. You house all creative power and in You, all is perfected.