The night's dark cloak, a velvet shroud they wear.
A single star, a fading, lonely cast,
Hangs in the void, with faint and trembling glare.
But from the east, a blush of gold begins,
A gentle whisper, soft as morning breeze,
That wakes the slumbering, and life within,
And paints the hills with hues of golden seas.
The shadows flee, the darkness fades away,
And from the dawn, a glorious light takes hold.
A thousand hues upon the landscape play,
A symphony of colors, bright and bold.
The sun, a king, ascends his fiery throne,
And paints the world with beauty all his own.