Time is like a juggernaut hurtling through our lives. It mows down our precious days into a compressed heap of dissatisfaction and regret. Perhaps, we are the compressors. Have we forgotten the timeless wisdom that each day is a mirror of life, with its birth, coming of age, and eventual ending? At aurora's first blush, greet the coming of the light with the crimson mantled Angel of Lauds. Her name is praise. Gratitude pours from her lips for a new beginning.
At the noon hour the Angel of Sext blows his golden trumpet. With the midday hour a diminishment of spirit often intrudes. A day half spent with unaccomplished goals, frustrated in a sea of busyness, now awaits the inevitable waning of the light. The Angel's clarion call sings out look upward. Stop for a moment and reflect. The sky hasn't lost its blueness and the birds still sing their joyous songs with abandon. Awaken to the wonder anew and with the Angel whisper a prayer for peace.
At the day's close, about an hour before retiring, the Angel of Compline, clad in a diaphanous robe of muted hues, descends with closed eyes. This can be a time of tranquility or terror. The Angel invites us to deal with ourselves gently. The prayer of Compline embraces the whole day, its vertiginous heights and labyrinthine depths, and enfolds us in a merciful mantle of protective serenity.
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