I cherish early morning,
the lonely time.
To wait and watch the glow,
almost sublime,
rising into the night
until the hour
of sleepy tousled sunrise
and its power.
Morning nurtures hope
lifting the pall
of raveled darker times
that I recall.
Morning is comfort's muse,
the world anew,
and I alone in it
till dawn breaks through.
You make a telling point here. The pre-dawn darkness is always a peaceful time, but the day may bring conflicts and trouble. Solitude is everything. I like the photo a lot.
Exactly! Once the sun is up noise and reality set in but sunrise itself is hope.
Enjoyed this poem. I'll reflect on it when I have my coffee tomorrow. Thanks for sharing.
As the lonely man cries for his better half. A crock sometimes in this post modern world.
Oh, The Beauty of your words! ! ! Truly Wonderful painting! Inspirational! ! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
My heart leapt as I read this , full marks you captured exactly how I feel I too love the early mornings Frank I lived in a monastery for many years and rose around 330am every morning It's the lonely time that poets love So succient and so well penned