I saw the night in sacrifice
bequeath its softest light
to grace the infant day,
and in its dying cancel all regret.
I saw a hope transcend despair and in its radiance
condemn obscurity to the unknown.
There, where shadows of the Earth gave way
before Aurora's sovereignty,
was wisdom's birth as well; the rushing train of time
arrested long enough to see
the gray penumbra sweeping darkest space aside.
There was promise. There was vision. There was art.
And from this silent tumult,
all this cosmic adolescence, there emerged
an archetype of noble weakness called