Visions of the end melt away
During easy mornings of golden hour rain.
And snippets of uncertainty burn up in sun rays.
Quenched by the morning wind,
And great clouds paint the blue canvas above.
The end moves far with its facing storm.
And once again, it’s kept at bay
And I can move forward with limited clarity.
But again, the storm will return stronger.
So the hope of golden hour shine
Must be prepared and ready.
For we don’t need our ending reminder
Until the very last moment.