O morning, freshly unfurled, like the dawn of creation,
Bursting with light, as the first moment of being!
The blackbird lifts its voice, primal, triumphant,
A song born from the soil, from the earth’s deep belly.
Sing praises! Sing to the light that climbs from the east,
To the day that emerges, innocent, from the bosom of the world!
Sweet the rains that fall, caressing, tender—
Each drop, a baptism for the earth’s green skin,
Each blade of grass kissed by Heaven’s breath,
The dew a glittering gift, on the fresh face of life.
Praise! Praise the sweetness of the garden,
Sprung up whole, where feet of wonder once trod,
Where the Eternal walks still, in quiet reverence.
Mine is the light, mine the glow of the morning!
I, too, am born with the day, sibling to the sun,
Witness to the glory that Eden knew in its first bloom,
Praise! Praise every breath, every heartbeat, every moment,
For in them, the new day unfolds, God’s hand shaping the world anew!
O morning, breaking as once it broke—
The blackbird sings, unchained, unafraid!
Praise for the song, praise for the dawn!
Praise for the world, springing up, forever fresh, forever young!
God’s Creation for the new day.
:: 09.24.2024 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 