Between darkest night and the bright light of day,
Sweet time…
Between darkest night and the bright light of day,
Sweet time hangs—
Not rushed,
Not announced.
A thin place.
Where shadows loosen their grip
And light has not yet learned to boast.
The birds rehearse, quietly.
The soul breathes without explaining itself.
Questions rest their weapons.
This is not the hour of answers.
It is the hour of truth without argument.
Here, God does not shout.
He does not need to.
Covenant remembers itself
In the stillness.
Faith wakes before fear.
Hope stretches without proving anything.
Mercy stands barefoot on the threshold.
Between night’s last word
And day’s first claim,
I learn again
That waiting is not absence—
It is presence
Undisturbed.
Sweet time,
Teach me to linger
Where You still speak
And nothing demands applause.
Spiritual Wanderings 