There is something about waking up before the sun that I crave. I love the way it begins to creep through my window in the morning; it is so hope-filled and lovely. And slowly the light fills up the whole house. But those few minutes just before that, I love how it almost isn't sure if it should invade your privacy; its rays almost seem timid as they make their way through the blinds and reach towards you. And it is in their timidness that I love them and wish that they would envelop me and propel me forward into the sunlight of a new day.
Perhaps that is why I'm angry when I wake up at 7:15 every morning (instead of 6:12 when my alarm goes off), at that point I've missed saying 'good morning' to the sun.
Goodnight, dear void.
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