The night before, when they could not see,

their cold hand sought the warmth,

little did they realised,

that the blind were singing their song.

Are you there, we could not ask,

Aren't you coming we could not seek,

Only the firm darkness continued to sing our song.

Cold and wet,

wet and cold,

grey and white and old,

shivering souls with a tinder hope,

they could only wait and wait

vigorously,

for the light. 

Early light breaks, entrapping the faintest dark,

with hope, it treads lightly and unmarked,

a few steps here, a few there,

it continues unproven but alive,

with firm and soft emergence,

The sun finally caresses the dawn