The first note of dawn

Before any dawn had kissed the void,

before the stars took flight,

the deep was wrapped in a shadow’s shroud,

And day hadn’t yet met night.

And there He moved—no sound, or storm

above the waters wide,

like eagle wings in a silent sweep,

with might in measured glide.

He’s not bound by form, or flesh, or frame,

yet near as breath can be,

He hovered close, with watchful care,

above the vast blue sea.

The silence stirred, a sacred hum,

a song not sung with sound,

but every note began to shape

the sky, the sea, the ground.

The Spirit watched the chaos churn,

the dark, the wild, the deep,

Like eagle mothers guard their young

in silence soft and steep.

No nest was built, no feather laid,

but still the care was there,

Sweet melody that held the world,

composed by holy air.

Then light was called, and sky was stretched,

and earth began to rise,

but still He hovered, still He held

the dream behind the skies.

From formless void to Eden’s breath,

from hovering to hand,

He formed the dust, and breathed the soul,

and taught our hearts to stand