the world lies weary, scarred and worn,
not just by shadows—but by the stillness of dawn
where goodness lingers, hushed and mild,
and leaves the dark to roam untried

for silence, soft as it may seem,
can cradle more than quiet dreams
it tends the soil where wrong takes root,
and lets it rise, unchecked, uncouth

a muted soul becomes the space
where echoes fade without a trace
yet truth was never meant to sleep
it calls to those who dare to speak

so lift your voice, though it may shake,
let courage ripple every ache
for even one can shift the air,
a single spark, a answered prayer

one flame can split the thickest night,
one stand can turn the course of right
the world is waiting still, somehow
for hearts that choose to answer now

for silence is no gentle stream,
but something stronger than it seems
a tide that pulls, unless we row
and brave the depths to change its flow.