The world at birth.

I don’t remember the last time I saw a sunrise. But I opened my little plane window after spending a healing week that felt like a month at the end of a year that felt like a decade and there it was. 

Sunsets are shades of pink and violets melting into one another, soft and tender, hopeful. The day slowly fades away in enough time for you to let go.

Sunrises? A horizon on fire in a sea of clouds. Bright burnt orange and cobalt blue meeting in a flash of pure white, demanding you confront what will be. Blasting power over the night that was. Unabashedly present. 

The world at birth.