The Early Morning Dawn
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"The Early Morning Dawn"
by: Wes Robert Ward
The early morning dawn breaks before the burning sun. What had begun must end he knew yet still he sat and breathed the air that his father let him breathe since time was created within his heart which soon dread to part.
He felt the chill in the mist, a gentle kiss upon his brow. And only now he only knew his ending was to come through and through.
A heavy burden on his back he must endure, the red blood from his body will be as pure as white when it flows from his temple to his toes, and like a red river onto the Earth that gave him birth. May his life enrich the soil and may it no longer embroil hate among mankind accept bring peace and love with the help from his father above.
Anchored in the sky on massive wood, staked on ground he will die, and yet to die others will live again for the love they bring makes his heart ascend. What must be will be, written in stone, written in words for all to be known that none of us will never be alone as long as his father above gives us healing love.
Alas for now before that comes to pass he sits in peace as the early morning dawn breaks and for those who are about to wake he gives a silent blessing for their sake and the journey they must embark.
Hark, the call of light that breaks the early morning dawn. Hark, and hear the chirping crickets and the yearning birds of the new day that will bring a bright tomorrow. What any morrow brings in time of sorrow.
Although the darkness of the night is gone and the light arises with his father's sun, he knows his time has come. And as his father's son he knew a Martyr he must become. To succumb so others may see the sun, the warmth and love his father brings, in time they will rejoice again and sing.
Today they will mourn, for he was born and so shall he die. On the third day of the third tomorrow may they have a new beginning as this one was soon to be ending. Life then death followed by new breath. Death then life again through struggle and strife which will no longer feel like an embedded knife.
He rose and stood, picked up the heavy cross made of solid dense wood. Yet as the sun arises in the deep blue sky, behind those greying clouds his father awaits and all creation was still so magnificent and great. He knew this as he walked the way of sorrows, he knew this as today will bring tomorrow.
Destiny and fate mingled in one, and when all was said and done his father will have the final word and soon all will be heard, no longer will the wicked call his father's judgement absurd.
And as they hung him to the heavy wood, nailed hand and feet, and feet and hand on this land of sand, and gave him his crown of thorns they thought he earned, he looked below for all that mourn and smiled as blood ran down his face, as blood ran down his face he still smiled. All of them were his father's child and all would know the word of his father, with this he knew and yet still he was not bothered.
The sun shined bright that day through angry clouds above. So many knelt and prayed, so many prayed and knelt. The sun shined bright that day through crying clouds above. So many cried, for their hero had died.
Yet heroes can move boulders with the strength of their shoulders, and the burden placed upon the man that walked on water will forever be reborn through sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, and so many others.
And as he closed his eyes and went from this world he once belonged, mortally forever gone, he knew he'd see another early morning dawn.
Through his own immortality in the hearts of others, he will live through them all, through his own immortality in the hearts of others.
And yet in their hearts he will see and always see there on another early morning dawn.
The End. \ud83c\udf24\ufe0f
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