To Greet the Morning

Through shadowed trails of a night so deep,

The silver wind does wildly sweep.

Who snuffed the candle of the skies,

Concealing golden, starry eyes?

Behind the clouds — soft and gray,

The world feels sinful yet in play.

It trembles in my palm, so small —

Alone, I craft my dreams’ thin shawl.

The dreams that wander through my mind,

In silver nights with winds entwined,

I hold what lingers in my grasp —

A world that yearns for warmth to clasp.

I warm my soul in sparks that pass,

With hope to greet the morning at last...

***

In my country, we have a saying that morning is wiser than evening. In general, sometimes it is good to postpone a decision to mature and then choose how to act.

Thank you for reading.