Each day, I wake as though it’s my last.
Breath held gentle, shadows cast.
No sudden steps, no need to rush.
My soul stands half-stitched to this earth,
afraid to leave before it’s whole.
And when the night begins to break,
And silence draws across the ache,
Just longing for a little grace.
To leave no mess, no word unsaid.
I kneel beside my bed and pray...
God, if it’s Your wish,
Let me live to see the next day,
not to escape death,
but to finish what life began in me.
But if I must, my soul You keep,
For I have lived, and I have loved.
And so I wait, both still and brave,
A quiet prayer in each wave.
Because living, for me, is a sacred thing
a wish come true in a trembling place.
Just hoping to rise to one more day.
Written by Micko.
©️ 3.05.2025
May 3, 2025
May 3, 2025 at 3:26 PM UTC
Each day, I wake as though it’s my last.
Breath held gentle, shadows cast.
No sudden steps, no need to rush.
My soul stands half-stitched to this earth,
afraid to leave before it’s whole.
And when the night begins to break,
And silence draws across the ache,
Just longing for a little grace.
To leave no mess, no word unsaid.
I kneel beside my bed and pray...
God, if it’s Your wish,
Let me live to see the next day,
not to escape death,
but to finish what life began in me.
But if I must, my soul You keep,
For I have lived, and I have loved.
And so I wait, both still and brave,
A quiet prayer in each wave.
Because living, for me, is a sacred thing
a wish come true in a trembling place.
Just hoping to rise to one more day.
Written by Micko.
©️ 3.05.2025
