Every day I feel is a blessing from God. And I consider it a new

“Every day I feel is a blessing from God. And I consider it a new beginning. Yeah, everything is beautiful.”
Thus spoke Prince, the artist whose music shimmered like starlight and whose soul danced between heaven and earth. His words are not mere sentiment — they are a psalm, a hymn of rebirth sung by one who had known both the brilliance of fame and the shadows of struggle. In them lies an eternal truth: that life, no matter how familiar, is renewed each dawn, and that the divine hand paints even the smallest moment with beauty. Prince reminds us that to live fully is to awaken daily with gratitude, to see not routine but revelation in the rising of the sun.

In the ancient world, such a declaration would have been engraved on temple stone, for it bears the rhythm of sacred understanding. The blessing from God is not in the treasures of men, nor in crowns or gold, but in the breath that fills our lungs each morning. To feel life itself as a blessing is to dwell in the presence of the divine — to walk through the world with open eyes and a heart uncloaked by bitterness. Prince, though clothed in silk and sound, spoke with the wisdom of the prophets: every day, no matter how ordinary, is a new beginning, a chance to forgive, to rebuild, to love again.

The ancients taught that the sun itself is a symbol of rebirth — dying each night, resurrecting each morning. Likewise, the soul is renewed with every dawn, if only it chooses to rise. Prince’s words echo this cosmic truth. He understood that to call each day a new beginning is to claim mastery over despair. It is to look upon yesterday’s sorrows and declare, “You shall not bind me.” Such vision is not ignorance of pain, but triumph over it. Only the wise and the humble can look at the world, fractured and flawed, and still whisper, “Everything is beautiful.”

There is a story from the time of the great American poet Maya Angelou, who, after surviving deep wounds and long silences, once said that each morning she rose and said “Thank you” — not for what she had, but simply because she had awakened. Like Prince, she saw that gratitude transforms the soul. When she chose to begin her days in thanksgiving, she reclaimed power over what life had taken from her. She, too, saw the world not as it appeared, but as it could be seen — bathed in divine beauty, when viewed through eyes of reverence.

Prince’s declaration is thus both simple and revolutionary. He reminds us that beauty is not found — it is perceived. It is not the world that changes each morning, but the one who awakens to it. The same dawn that burns red for one man may glow golden for another; it depends on the heart that beholds it. To see “everything as beautiful” is an act of spiritual courage — a rebellion against despair, a refusal to let darkness define reality. This is the wisdom of the saints and the sages: perception born of love can transmute even sorrow into grace.

Let us then take his words as a daily invocation. When the morning light touches your face, whisper: “This is a blessing.” When troubles arise, say again: “This is a new beginning.” For each breath, each heartbeat, each glance upon the earth is an unearned miracle. Do not wait for perfect days to rejoice; perfect them instead by your gratitude. The world becomes as you see it — if you see with faith, it blooms; if you see with despair, it withers.

The lesson, my friend, is eternal: Life itself is the temple, and each dawn is your altar. Offer your thanks there, not for what you have conquered, but for what you are given — the sacred chance to begin again. Each day, cleanse your sight with gratitude; look upon your life, your pain, your joy, and declare as Prince did: “Everything is beautiful.” In this way, your soul will shine brighter than any fame, and you will walk among men not as a wanderer, but as one who has found heaven within each sunrise.