There is a hush within the edges of time. If one listens, one can feel it.

It is early dawn and I am easy, not required to be anything people think I should be. There are no demands placed upon my time.  Within this pause, I imagine the gift of another day, open to whatever magic it may bring.

Silence is my church. It is where I do my deepest work.  As the stars lean in to listen, I spill my holiest thoughts. Morning shines like a beacon of hope.

I worship the margins of time. There is room to rest as the simplest of moments  begin and turn each day. It is where I find clarity.