Awake

Avila Morning by Diego Rivera

The last two days were hard. I’d lost sleep and breath and a vision of the life that lies beyond this moment.

I imagine I will have more days that seem without a promise of tomorrow. But this morning, after a night of rest, I can take in the morning’s light.

It’s an amazing thing, the 24 hour cycle that tells the time of our lives. Each one that passes, a symbolic proof of the nature of mortal and immortal existence. A bright morning followed by the work of midday and then the rest of evening. Nothing could look more like the great span of our lives than the single days that make them up. And then night comes and buries us in it’s black. We sleep because we must, because continued existence demands it. We are taken out of ourselves in the long night, in our sleep, in our surrender to necessity.

And then, inevitably and directed by the same law of being that made us sleep, we are woken up. And the sun that greets us shines as if there never was a night. Living life and death and resurrection every day as if it is a matter of course.

Because it is a matter of course.