an allegory, or, this morning's sunrise

i woke up this morning to sit and watch God begin the day. i walked about 40 yards behind our house, across the elementary school courtyard and sat on a big rock by the trees next to the cemetary. i was a little disappointed that the Eastern horizon was shadowed with clouds. because of this, the beginning of the sunrise was not as spectacular as i had hoped. i couldn’t see the sun but i could see it brightening the clouds to my right and left with soft shades of pink and orange. these objects in my periphery were made beautiful by the sun, even though i couldn’t see it. then i started to see the sun a little more directly. there was a sort of window between the clouds that was filled with golden light. like the clouds on the periphery, the borders of the box were lit by the sun but much more dramatically. the edges were etched in brilliance, their soft lines cut into diamond edges. finally, only after the sun had made these ordinary clouds things of beauty and majesty did it show itself. it was almost as if i had to see the sun in other things before i could see it directly. once it peeked through, though, it eclipsed all with the power of its light. its brilliance made me cast my eyes down. soon the sun had lit all around. i could see everything. not only that, but clouds that had appeared dark, gray, and ominous before were now shown to be harmless puffy white clouds. the sun had stripped them of their malevolent nature and shown them to be nothing to be feared.