In the hush before the morning breaks,
I sit with shadows, wide awake.
The stars above begin to fade,
Yet night still clings, a silent blade.
The wind moves slow, the clock ticks loud,
Thoughts gather like a drifting cloud.
Each second stretched, each breath a yawn,
My soul held tight—still waiting… dawn.
The dark knows secrets, none confess,
It wraps my hope in quiet stress.
But somewhere past this restless night,
There waits a thread of golden light.
So I endure the aching gray,
The hour between despair and day.
For in the east, where light is drawn,
A promise stirs
I'm waiting… dawn.