I find that I cannot think of one thing; one singular thing that I cherish about life more than the early morning.
To rise early and blink the sleep from your eyes, to know it might be the last thing in the earth that we share with our anscestors.
Imagine basking in the cool caress of the earth which had been cooled by the night and purged of the dirt of the day, washed clean by the moon's light.
Imagine being in the purest form a human can be; barefoot so that you may feel the stones and dirt and sticks against your feet as those long before us did.
To have no obligation other than to spot the baby rabbit lying still under the tree, praying that you won't spot it, and if you do, that you won't chase it.
Imagine having birds, who had forgotten the horrors humans provided them the day before, hop towards you, or nestle in a bush not a foot away.
Imagine watching your own breath curl from your lips and waft away in little white clouds.
To have your skin be touched and held by the crisp morning air, or have the side of your bare foot brush the morning dew gathered in the grass on the edge of the path.
Imagine being the one to greet the sun and point it's way across the sky, so that tomorrow it may bring another morning.
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My Many Complaints About the Injustice of Life
Title says it all.
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FlagstaffForest
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You think you own whatever land you land on
The Earth is just a dead thing you can claim.
But I know every rock and tree and creature
Has a life, has a spirit, has a name.