The world had not woken up yet.

The sky was still thinking.

A thin line of fire rested on the horizon,

as if the day hesitated

between becoming hope

or remaining a question.

The road was steady.

Cars moved forward without drama,

without hurry.

Everyone carrying something unseen.

This is the hour when fear and courage

share the same breath.

I was not driving towards answers.

I was driving through uncertainty,

and the sky knew it.

That soft burning pink

was not sunrise.

It was reassurance.

A quiet promise that even when the body trembles,

the world keeps its rhythm.

And you are still part of it.

Not everything heals in hospitals.

Some things heal

on bridges,

between lanes,

under a sky that says

“I see you.”

And so I kept going.

Not because I was strong,

but because I was present.

That was enough.

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