In the early morning mist
that lingers around us while we sleep
lies in wait
a beautiful sunrise
although however
not yet.
First, the dull blues and grays
drip away
from night to day
letting us see
the early
haze of dawn,
the gentle shade of waking day.
A world waiting inside
the softly blended grays.
We forget the gloom beauty
of this morning mist
And instead lay in wait
for the day to arrive,
not realizing
these delicate hues
of dull grays and blues
hold their own beauty.
Instead, we wait
for the warmth of purples and oranges
to rise over the horizon
to paint away
with it
the morning haze.
We never look back
to acknowledge the beauty before,
only look forward
to the sunrise.
Never realizing
the beauty of those silvery
purples and oranges
could not exist without
the contrast of the gentle splendor
of blended grays and blues and silvers.
It's there in those
lonely moments of morning,
that the brush strokes
of a beautiful sunrise
begin to be painted.
Where we begin
to shed memory of pain
for the promise of another day.
Letting go of our burdens of pain and sorrow.
Just for that single moment
of fresh air
among the oranges and golden yellows of sunrise.
To find the strength to smile again.
And the shaded mist of morning takes
all we are willing to give
so we can have that moment
and accepts it is not beautiful
like a sunrise
because of the pain it sheds for us.
However, it looks on through
its own shaded mists of gray
and knows
more than we can ever realize
how we are more beautiful
than a sunrise.
-Armando Torres
