Morning soul

I did love every morning sunshine, scattered between the old branches,not only because it pictured the beauty of a new day, but also because it buried so many tomorrows. Even if the divine light lasted for only a few minutes, it seemed like an eternity. I could have stood there, on the soft grass, and watch it for ever. The cold pleasant wind was playing gently with my hair and it almost felt like a lover’s touch. I loved it. The sunrise. The reborn of the day. I felt the embrace of the sun, slowly making its way through the clouds, giving birth to a whole new today sky. Was amazing – the feeling of living another day, surrounded by nothing but the purity of nature. And so it was. Pure. There was no place I could feel more like home, than at the end of the forest, lying on the ground, with an orchestra of morning birds playing just for me… How could I ever forget the goosebumps when the wind touched my skin? The shivers running down my spine when the warmth of the sun covered me whole, caressing me? How would a painter, a musician or a writer dare to steal the beauty of these moments, keep them for themselves, when there’s so much peace and grace in every morning?

I stood like this for hours, contemplating the sunrise, as if it was for the first time I ever saw it. Was more than tremendous.After a while, I took my jacket, my mind and my soul and left. Little thief of me stole a glimpse of sunrise and hid it in my heart. Hopefully, it will light my day and when the night comes, will remind me why do I long so much for the sun.



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