There is a moment, driving through the blackness of pre-dawn, when stars and sky and earth become one, where my headlights, or those of my vehicle, anyway, push forward into what seems like nothingness, illuminating the momentary existence of rock and tree, then sweeping past and on, returning those things, relegating them to the void once more.
And so I press onward, forward, and ahead, until I reach, quite suddenly, that blueing space where definition begins, where form shifts and solidifies, where the upper becomes sky, where the lower becomes earth, and where the middle takes shape, becoming more something than nothing, less nothing than something.
The colours in this place have no name - not ink, not midnight (for surely it is not that), not even dawn, for the light has yet to break. In this nameless place, this nameless space, my breath is drawn in more measured portions, my shoulders bear no burden, and my eyes perceive only beautiful clarity. In this nameless space, this nameless place, I find myself smiling in the presence of God.
It is at that moment the day, The Day, begins.