Chasing the Dawn: A Meditation on Empty Hands and Early Walks

  

Chasing Dawn Without Intention

I left the house with empty hands,

No plans to hold the morning light,

Just shoes against the quiet road,

And shadows untying from the night.

The island slept in indigo,

While ocean waves breathed soft and low,

A peach-rimmed coast, a silhouette,

Where only early walkers go.

I didn't ask the sky to bloom,

Or force the sun to show its gold,

Yet standing where the shore meets day,

I caught a gift I couldn't hold.

No curated space, no heavy glass,

Just salt, and breeze, and open air—

Proof that the magic finds us best

When we just show up to be there.