In whispers of the morning light,
The heavens sing a silent tune,
A symphony of endless night,
Guided by the silver moon.
The stars align in gentle grace,
To paint the skies with holy art,
Each twinkle holds a sacred space,
Echoes of the divine heart.
Mountains stand in solemn prayer,
Their peaks brush against the sky,
In every breeze and whispered air,
The voice of God is nigh.
Rivers flow with ancient song,
Their waters dance with sacred might,
In nature’s arms we all belong,
Bathed in celestial light.