Each day we wake and ponder just for a moment that blazing ball of light in the sky, that wondrous giver of life that shines down upon our world like a beacon bestowing its radiance upon a realm that knows much about its existence but must theorize over its creation. It glares at us some days, it seems to look upon us with great appeal on others, but always it is there, even when hidden behind the gathered clouds that seek to dim its radiance and hide it away from view. Its light presses against them and reminds us that no day is ever without light, no matter how dim it might seem.
Each day it tracks across the heavenly vista as we watch it rise from one horizon only to reach its peak before falling to the other. It moves, yet we perceive it only peripherally, marking our day by its passage and lamenting its loss as it sinks beneath the landscape yet again, its life-giving warmth just a memory upon our skin as the cool touch of night caresses the land once again. With baited breath we wait for it again, enduring the night in variety of ways as we seek to once again feel that shimmering brilliance upon our skin, the golden light that bathes us and brings joy to so many.
What is night then? Is it the cessation of light? Or is it the grasping cold that seeks to steal away the remainder of that day we so cherish? No, night is the intermission between one day and another, the necessary pause that allows us to take a breath before we are bombarded once again with the scintillating touch of the heavenly body that is as necessary to our lives as it is enriching.
The sun rises, and so I must go, the light of day is calling.