Dawn in the Land of Unknowing
I’m at peace in the early morning hours,
That’s why I like to wake up at sunrise,
Or, even better, a few hours before.
When I go for a walk there is a glow
That slowly grows at the horizon’s edge
As the stars and satellites fade from sight.
Frequent morning walks attune me to the sight
Of the subtle differences in the hours
That form a kind of borderland, or edge,
That separates night from day with the sunrise.
I feel a sense of holiness, a glow,
A calm presence that I’ve known from before.
Like a familiar face from years before,
A recollection that is strong as sight;
A scene from childhood, a campfire’s glow,
The time spent with Dad, uncountable hours,
Camping by ponds that glowed with the sunrise,
That kept me from falling off childhood’s edge.
The borders of the sea, its tidal edge,
Ebbs and flows; where you thought it was before
It disappears in the hours of sunrise.
What once appeared obvious to one’s sight
Becomes, in the accumulated hours,
Remote, like a small candle’s distant glow.
Young lover’s meet, their faces all aglow
While around them the snow softens the edge,
The hedges, fences, the claims on the hours
No longer have the power they had before
Like a door that opens onto the sight
Of returning swans in flight at sunrise.
A time that’s between, the time of sunrise,
When the clouds above capture the sun’s glow.
It’s when Enoch walked with God and the sight
Of creation drew him beyond the edge
Into luminous unknowing before
Day and night and time, before there are hours.
Sometimes a sunrise seems to last for hours,
There’s a glow before dawn when things seem to pause
At the edge of the sight of the unknown.