It’s often said, maybe it could be true,
That just before the sky gives hint of blue
The night does all it can to fright and cower
It’s what is sometimes called the darkest hour.
The task undone, impending daily grind,
Is all that sleepless you can bring to mind,
As thoughts forbear to cease their surly dance
And time, it seems, refuses to advance.
All that is vile is ready to ensnare
But must you yet fall victim to despair?
Take heart, be hopeful for the coming morn -
The world is darkest just before the dawn.
© John Welford
hope
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