When Morning Breaks
Three hours now,
and I've been soaking in the silence,
dreanched in the chill of a sleepless night.
No fire,
no hand to hold
just me
and the moan of wind
weaving sorrow through my bones.
The stars have turned their faces,
and even the moon seems tired of watching.
But still
I wait,
wrapped in shadows,
rocking gently between despair and prayer.
For I know,
though the ache is long
and the night does not whisper mercy;
soon enough,
the sky will tear open with light.
Soon enough,
morning will break.
And with it,
I shall rise enveloped in Divine warmth.
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