This morning I woke
to a silver stream of light
reaching out
from an unbroken sky.
It was voiceless,
but singing.
It was newborn, fragile,
but precocious.
It made an undulating arc
across the emptiness
and came to rest at my feet.
In unmeasured moments,
luminosity
became liquid
became artifact
and dissipated
into shimmering motes
with a breath.
The day began.