A hush before the morning breaks,

Where silence drapes the dreaming lakes.

The world still held in shadow’s hand—

A breathless pause, a sleeping land.

But in the hush, a whisper grows,

A golden thread the darkness knows.

The sky begins to draw its breath,

And stirs the veil of nighttime death.

The sun spills ink on cloud and hill,

The birds arise with notes that thrill.

Each leaf, each stone, begins to wake,

A soul reborn for wonder’s sake.

And in that light, I feel it too—

A thawing heart, a self made new.

As if my bones were once asleep,

And dreams had buried truths too deep.

But now they rise, like morning fire,

Lit by some ancient, quiet choir.

I stretch within this dawn’s embrace,

Alive again—unmasked, in place.

Awakening is not just day,

But something fierce that finds its way—

Through every dusk that made me blind,

To light I always held inside.