Unspoken, silent, like the language of the stars, it is there. Unknowingly acted out, a message unheard. Its natural rhythm a silent echo, a sermon without words.
Evening's shadow never fails to come, casting all into its eventual darkness. Weariness overtakes as eyelids grow heavy, minds blur, bodies tire. The unrelenting night has its way. All lie down, finally succumbing to the blackness.
In the cocoon of sleep, the dark veil closes in further and enmeshes in its grasp. Nightmares torment and dreams escape, while nothing is done by those in midnight's grip. Time stands still and yet races on all at once, the moon a quiet, solitary witness to what will come.
For suddenly, dawn's morning rays penetrate, conquering the darkness. Growing in strength, they stir, warm, beckon back to life. Eventually, sun's soundless call prevails, as night is shaken off, bodies rise up, and the promise of another day is entered.
The sun and earth reverberate with the message, a daily gospel preached without words.
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