Of course mornings are dreary when all my nights are long… and yet I’m awakened by your sweet song.

Awake, yet at peace, the duality of having dreams when my eyes are wide, I feel the warmth only you create growing with great stride.

And of course your warmth would stride and sprint, for you move with the wind.

You are steady, you are gentle, and yet you are so much more; you have the power to destroy and yet instead you restore.

You are quiet, yet your whisper is strong, if only its peace could reach me when my nights become so long.

I am restless and weary, and yet still I write; for though peace is what you breathe, it is a peace that allows me to fight.