I walked out into the early morning mist. The sun had not yet surfaced the horizon. It's light sent a clear blue hue across the sky. I stood beneath a low tree branch and gazed out over the field across the road from our yard. The cattle that did move, moved gently, as if they were still clearing the sleep from their eyes. But the birds who had nestled in our woods quietly through the night were now wide awake. They chirped without ceasing, flew in formations from the trees over my head. The squirrel hopped from one treetop to another.
God can only be understood at the dawning of a new day. For it's then that one realizes God is not only the author of art; God is art. Only a being of absolute beauty could have created this canvas. How I long to know such beauty. To feel it every moment throughout the core of myself; to be in His presence and filled with His presence.
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