Have you ever heard the birds sing in the morning hours? Somewhere between the void of day and night, in the great, breathless salvo of all being… Their songs are sweeter than ever; their calls scattered among the blackened abyss like pebbles dancing towards to the dark ocean bed; their delicate melodies resonating through the empty air.

In my mind, these hours of blind bird song are the purging of the morning world, the predecessor of the rising star that arrives in the east to travel home to the west. The sweet cadence atones for all the world’s monstrosities. A great cleansing, if you will.

Have you ever wondered why the birds sing before dawn?

Have you ever sat awake until twilight, very much aware that life is infinite?

ay up bitchez