Morning Has Come

Hues of pale roses chase the blanket of darkness.
The silence deafening for that one moment in time,
When the orchestra begins as life returns from the void.
Morning has come to push the moon from her perch.

The songs lift up the world's hope in the voices of birds.
The dew shimmers upon every blade and petal in diamonds.
The chill brings to life all that is dormant and hidden.
Morning has come to push death from his perch.

The pond lies silent below the mist.
The children of the forest rush out to play,
And the trees sway in the breeze that bears the suns warmth.
Morning has come to push the nightmares of the mind from our souls.