The Tempo of Dawn

It is Sunday morning. I wake up to the sound of the rain outside. My room is still in darkness. I love Sunday mornings- it is that special day when nature awakens me- a slow and beautiful phenomenon, as opposed to the distressing abruptness of the alarm.
I close my eyes yet again. But this time, I am in a trance. I am still in the realms of sleep, because my mind isn’t racing. It is picking up tempo, but it isn’t racing.
I hear the pitter-patter of the rain outside, the slow orchestra of the birds, and all the sounds from the awakening world outside- but they sound distant. I begin to dream- of things I love to dream about. Is this sleep or wakefulness?
As I dream, the sounds of the morning slowly begin to sound closer to my ears- I hear them now, loud and clear. The rain has stopped. I open my eyes- the first rays of the sun are streaming in through the window- golden rays that flood me in their embrace, as if instilling energy into my body and soul, revitalizing me. I bask in the magic of these rays.
My eyes are now open, and I feel wide awake. I sit up in bed, stretch, and fall in love with the day ahead. This is the tempo of dawn.

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