Let us rise with the dawn, not to greet light, but to carry the weight of what the night has taken.
Embrace this day’s promise— not of ease, but of endurance, the slow stitching of absence into fabric we can wear.
Tomorrow’s breeze guide us, not as bright banners, but as muted hymns, reminding us that even sorrow has its own compass.
The innocence of past years fuels our steps, not as nostalgia’s sweetness, but as embers we protect against the wind of forgetting.
And so, together, we find peace in Present’s embrace: not by denying the ache, but by letting it stand beside us, a companion at the table, teaching us that mourning, too, is a kind of promise— to remember, to continue, to rise.
.
.