Wake up birdwatcher

With the dawn, the promise of renewal. Light seems to embody hope - the same hope that the night so ruthlessly chases down and snuffs. I can see the sun's glow precede it in the east, I am awake and rubbing the dreams out of my eyes with bincoulars in hand. I know soon even the silence will give way to a chorus of bird calls.

Everything dies, but death is only the final signature stroke of life. More than that, it is the semicolon pause that awaits life's return. We needn't fear the dark. For what is the dark but chaos, and through our art, through our music, through stories, through science, through prayer, through simple awareness, through hope, through procreation, through our laughter at its absurdity and our cheerful walk back down the hill, we prove over and over that chaos is simply the nutrient soup feeding an emergent order. Order, life, consciousness - arisen from unpredictable chaos. Darkness is pushed back and defeated.