Night recedes
as a shimmer of light
first shows behind the mountain
filtering gently upwards
probing the shadows of the stars
softly illuminating the darkness

Blackness slowly fades
to shades of dark blue
growing lighter and lighter
where the rising orb of fire
scales higher and brighter
behind the sculpted summits

Ascending in golden glow
advancing rays
reach and sparkle
through the distant crags
setting fire to the peaks
ricocheting off the rocks
Igniting the spires as lanterns
dissolving the last starlight
in the constellation’s retreat

Crowning the crest
it floods the heavens in luminous aura
casting its first warm fingers
down through the crisp cold
welcomed by each uplifted branch
each silent stone, each diamond ripple

Emerging in blinding heat
sweltering the rock
raining down radiant arrows
penetrating the heart of the dew-misted valley
conquering night’s last remaining remnants
until eventually, inevitably
it explodes
in a crescendo of brilliant fullness
satisfying the Earth’s expectation

Does stream define the bed
or bed define the stream?
Does dream define the person
or the person define the dream?
Does mind control the senses
or are senses to the mind
like streams that flow to rivers
an ocean soon to find?
Are oceans unconnected
to the source where starts the stream?
Is mind an unconnected source
from whence appears a dream?
Or are we really aiming
like raindrops towards the ground
delivered from a higher source
to nurture what we’ve found?