Yes, mornings are quite different in kind –
clear and bright, with drizzle grey,
sultry sometimes, or freezing cold –
but do not mind!
Each is a gift, none is in vain,
you know by now too well
there is no learning without pain.
solely pain will cast one into mould

There is one morning, yet,
when after a long night
spent snuggled up in God’s embrace
you wake up perhaps late
but unafraid this time
you find that you can face
both height and depth
Having been fed with the old lore:
you know yourself immortal, so may claim
whatever be its kind
no morning of the soul is vain.