When shadows wrap the soul in night,

And silence swallows every light,

There comes a break, a sacred seam—

A golden thread, a whispered gleam.

It doesn’t roar, nor does it shout,

But in its hush, it casts doubt out.

A sliver born from distant flame,

That speaks: You’re here. You’re not the same.

Through shattered dreams and fractured skies,

It finds the tears in well-worn lies.

Not to blind, but just to show

That even now—you still can glow.

It seeps into the cracks we hide,

Where fear and failure oft reside.

And there, it blooms, not asking why—

Just lifts your chin to face the sky.

So when you think the night won’t end,

And even stars won’t dare to send

Their fire down—just wait, be still…

The light returns. It always will.