Some nights feel endless.
The kind where you question everything; your purpose, your strength, your hope.
But even in the silence, even in the ache, something holy is rising.
It’s the morning.
It doesn’t rush you. It won’t scold you for your doubt.
It just keeps coming, slow and faithful.
And when it breaks over the hills of your heart, it brings new colours and new beginnings.
You don’t have to fix everything tonight.
You only have to trust that the sun will rise again.