Between three and four in the morning,
the world is suspended in web-like silence.
The clock does not tick, it only breathes,
and the refrigerator hums a low, lonely song.

Shadows stretch long across the floor boards,
like fingers pointing to forgotten dreams.
In this quiet space where thoughts are clear,
we face the truths we hid during the day.

So let the night hold its deep secrets,
until the first gray light breaks the sky.
In the stillness of these ghost hours,
we find the courage to begin again.