Early Mornings.

I'm not a morning person. Essentially, I can't wake up smoothly anytime before 9 and sometimes even 10 seems early. But the days where I've stayed up late (sometimes even till 7am of the next day), do I fully experience how beautiful mornings really are. Like Shelley famously said, "the morning does not rebel against dark but rather disperses it" it is fascinating to see the light slowly creeping up the night and successfully replacing it slowly and steadily.
These mornings remind me much of my Grandfather who'd always wake up at the crack of dawn till the very last day of his life at the age of 90. Mornings may not hold the same mystery and beauty as the night does for me but the chirping of birds and the warmth of early sunlight has a special magic.
Being a steadfast atheist, it is in my habits to scorn heaven, god, Satan (though he's immensely attractive) and of course hell. Even then, when the sun rises and the bright almost orange light lights up the sky, the clouds pave a way towards a castle and somehow a part of me yearns for a little heaven, of a little magic and of a few miracles in my logical and almost always practical life. Sigh. As my fellow hostel mates sleep on, I make the fruitless self promise again, "today i'll sleep the night and wake up early tomorrow".
They say tomorrow never comes and I softly respond, "Amen".