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.