THE VIGIL BEFORE DAWN Verse I Before the first name learned its shape, Before the bone knew song or law, I stood where breath was still a question And night leaned close to hear me draw A mark in dust, a circle broken, Not prayer, nor plea, nor blight nor vow, Only the pulse that asks to answer Only the now that wants a now. Pre-Refrain Something older than decision Moves the marrow, bends the air. Not command, nor invitation, Just the weight of being there. Refrain If you feel me, do not follow. If you hear me, do not speak. Stand within the widening silence Where the strong and wounded meet. Verse II I carry endings like a weather That returns but never stays. Every decade leaves its cinder Every scar invents its ways. I have loved until the structure cracked, I have knelt until the stone was warm, I have learned the heat remembers Long after shape and shelter form. Pre-Refrain There is no innocence remaining, Only truth that learned to wait. What draws near is not possession, It is gravity and fate. Refrain If you feel me, do not follow. If you hear me, do not speak. Stand within the widening silence Where the strong and wounded meet. Bridge This is not hunger. This is not thirst. This is the moment before either existed. The breath held too long. The hand not yet raised. The knowing that something will answer If named. Verse III I am not asking to be spared, Nor bound, nor taken, nor undone. I offer only what survives me When the night forgets the sun. Let the tension teach its language. Let the ache remain unclosed. I do not flee the fire in me. I have learned how it grows. Final Refrain If you feel me, stay where you are. If you hear me, keep your ground. Let the distance hold its meaning. Let the pull remain unbound. Outro Dawn will come. It always does. But this— This belongs to the hour before names.
