first light \ before words
The first hour belongs to quiet.
Before words finds you.
Before the day asks anything.
Light comes slowly.
Thought hasn't hardened into tasks yet.
You move through this time differently.
Softer steps.
Slower reaching.
There's no conversation to navigate.
No response required.
Sound exists without demanding attention.
A bird, far off.
The house waking.
Your own breathing.
Nothing needs saying.
The day will arrive soon enough.
Words will come.
Tasks will form.
But not yet.
Right now, you're allowed to exist
in the hour before language
when everything is soft
and the world hasn't remembered
what it wants from you.
listen: to the playlist that accompanies this memory
