Let the sun rise.
Not only above the mountains,
Not only over oceans and cities of glass,
But inside us.
Inside the tired nurse driving home before dawn.
Inside the old man eating alone beside a flickering kitchen light.
Inside the refugee carrying photographs through the dust of another broken century.
Inside the woman who smiles all day while quietly falling apart at night.
Let the sun rise.
Let the sun rise there first.
In the places nobody applauds,
In the trembling soul that has forgotten its own worth.
And if there is still goodness left in this world,
And I believe there is.
Let it arrive softly.
As the hand that stays.
As bread shared in silence.
Has the courage to say.
I no longer want to hurt anyone.
Not even myself.
Let the sun rise.
Let hatred grow tired.
Let revenge loosen its grip.
Let the machinery of outrage slow down for one sacred hour.
We were made for rivers,
For music drifting through open windows,
For children asleep on someone's chest.
For laughter that survives difficult years.
Let the sun rise.
Let the sun rise over hospitals,
Over prisons,
Over crowded trains and forgotten villages.
Over the addict who still believes tomorrow might be different.
Over the soldier who no longer remembers what peace feels like.
Let the sun rise over all of us.
Because no nation owns the morning.
No religion owns mercy.
No ideology owns the stars.
And somewhere,
Somewhere,
Beyond all our noise,
The universe still waits for us.
To be calm.
Human again.
Let the sun rise.
For everyone.
