Hope Wears the Morning

By: Alexander Frick 

Hope is the whisper in the darkened night, 

A flicker where there is no light. 

It dances on the edge of pain, 

A stubborn spark that won’t be slain. 

It lives in cracks where sorrow frows, 

In silent seeds the cold wind sows. 

It rises when the heart kneels low, 

And breathes in places fear won’t go. 

Hope wears the morning like a crown,

It lifts the eyes when heads hang down. 

It walks with those who’ve lost their way, 

And paints the skies of storm with day. 

It is not loud, it does not shout—

But still, it drowns the deepest doubt. 

A thread of gold through every fear,

A hand that says, “I’m always near.” 

So when the night feels far too long, 

And silence stills your every song. 

Remember: even stars must wait–

But dawn is never late.