Somedays 6 am is the most unforgiving time in my day. The mornings are cold, dark and grey now. The darkness is oppressive to me. It traps me in a quiet stasis, awaiting the arrival of the day and the ensuing noise and light.
Sometimes 6am is the quiet moaning of a world not quite ready to face the day. A time which belongs only to farmers, and monks saying Vigils, each worshiping the unforgiving world in their separate but ultimately equal ways.
Some mornings 6 am mocks me, taunting me with my longings for a warm bed and a soft embrace. Forcing reality upon my world, forcing my dreams to flee to the corners of my vision.
And sometimes, at 6am, the universe throws me a bone.
It welcomes the day with a display so brilliant it can bring you to your knees. Your heart soars. You know in this moment that the un relentless, un stoppable universe has shown you a corner of perfection.
And you cry because beauty this vast and this fleeting is beyond you. The eyes and the mind and the heart can only grasp at a scrap of this wonder.
Then as quickly as it came, the universe takes it away from you. Night has handed over the reigns to day and life continues. But a small part of your heart is forever changed by being graced with such beauty upon it.
The universe forgets, but you cannot.