Morning Comes
Empires fall. The wind carries the headlines from every direction. Systems crack and the fire keeps burning, long after the cameras turn away. The night stretches loud and electric, heavy with consequence.
And the morning always follows the night.
Light rises without permission. Smoke thins. Ruins sharpen into outline. What collapsed will remain collapsed. What burned will remain ash. Still, the horizon brightens. Still, breath steadies. Still, something in the body refuses surrender.
Morning comes welcome or not.
