Project Daybreak

Whoever thought getting up to watch the sunrise was a good idea anyway???

I’m gonna die.

Those were my two thoughts climbing up the hill this morning. My back hurt, my lungs hurt, I had a stitch in my side, my pulse was pounding in my ears and I was positive that I would not make it for sunrise. I had completely underestimated the time it would take to go from the parking lot at the bottom of the hill to the peak. The sky to my left through the trees was a vibrant orange before I was halfway and the light grew with every step.

Just one more curve, I told myself, but the road’s spiral never ended.

Then, finally, it did. I had reached the parking lot at the top of the hill (which doesn’t open until noon) and was barely a minute away from the peak. The sun has probably risen. I should just go sit on a bench and catch my breath, I thought. I don't even care anymore. :P

But my legs had passed that initial point of utter collapse a curve ago and now they just kept walking of their own volition. Up the final steep set of rocks I climbed and found what we mortals like to call Heaven.

Man alive. How do you even describe the beauty of it?

The clouds above whirled with red and blue. The streak clouds just above the vibrantly orange sea held a mix of yellow and pink. Moutain peaks on the right, snow dusted, rose out of mist and seemed nearly imaginary. The darkness of the city’s trees combined with the gold specks of streetlights made it look like the starry sky had fallen to earth.

Then came the sun!




I had NOT missed that moment of sunrise. Ooo la la! I even had time to pull out my laptop and start writing this blog as I watched a flame-like pinprick of orange in the layers of clouds grow and rise until I couldn’t look at it for the brightness, its reflection in the ocean twice the size of itself.

Now, the sun has moved up into the clouds above but the subdued radiance lingers in soft pastels. The wind teases at my face and fingers. The birds glory in the new day.

I think I remember why someone would want to get up and hike a hill to watch the sunrise. ☺

Thank You, Abba. Your artistry this morning gave a feast to the eyes and the soul. I love You!

Blind Arol

The priestess crouched on the black stone behind the curtains. Her hands moved through a squat pink tongue of fire she could not see. It did not burn her. Sullen night held sway outside of the temple walls but Arol did not care. Blazing sunlight or moonless dark, it was all the same to her.


Without removing her focus from the Hya flame, she spoke, “What do you want?”


Only a beast’s eyes could have made out the intruder’s form. Very few ears besides Arol’s would have marked his jungle cat tread.


“I wish to give you sight.” Said the man. His voice held the polished accent of the Capital’s citizens.


Arol wove her flame, “Only the god can give sight.”


“So it is said,” said the man. He pushed aside a transluscent black curtain to stand before the embers, “But tell me, Arol, what would you give to be able to see? To know color and intangible shape?” He knelt and plunged his own hand into the fire’s heart, which spurted blue in response, “To know light?”


Arol brought her palms down on top of the embers and the fire vanished without smoke. Darkness, nearly as deep as blindness, smothered the temple.


“Perhaps for this,” said the stranger, “you would offer even your soul.”