In the end

Oh sacred, final morning still,
your frosted breath has chilled the air.
The hints of light above the hill
evoke this humble, solemn prayer:
Enchant our hearts with unhurried pace,
impede the rise of morning’s glow;
in mercy, allow a moment’s grace,
and pass the hours of this day slow.
Create a pause for whispers soft,
for those who need a last embrace,
for those who send their sighs aloft,
for those who love this weary face.
Oh sacred, final morning calm,
delay the truth we know must come.
Provide a modest healing balm,
for their sakes—slow, ‘til the day is done.