Sunrise

They say history repeats itself. I guess that's true. I mean, I watch the sun rise every morning, and yet the next morning, it rises once again. Every day, bright red and pink slowly spread their way across the far edge of the horizon, and the sun slowly pokes up behind them, as if he's afraid we've already forgotten how beautiful he is. One full day later, it all happens again. Granted, the colours, the patterns and the immense beauty change day to day, but history still repeats itself.

I wouldn't change it if I could, though. There is something so comforting in the sight of an expanse of blue-grey clouds, dappled in hot pink. The colour splashes across the bottom sides of the clouds, as if it is in a rush to get somewhere. It doesn't seem to be in a rush, but when you look back a minute later, the colour has spread so much farther, you're sure that its late for something.

Eventually, the pink starts to fade and all of the sudden, the sun is up and it is day.

Scientifically, I know that the Earth I stand on is round, the sunrise is a result of the Earth turning, and the colours are just rays of light that have been lengthened from having to come all the way around the edge of the round planet.

And yet, I can see how people believed they stood on a flat surface, and the sun revolved around them. That's the way we're trained to think, isn't it? We're taught to believe we are the center of everything.

We aren't though, the center of everything. We are each just a speck of matter floating in a never-ending rotation, surrounded by other specks of matter who think they are the center of everything.