In the quiet of the room,
an unopened envelope sits,
its paper whispering secrets
to the passing dusk.
The call to prayer echoes,
faint yet persistent,
like a memory tugging
at the edges of sleep.
Each pause holds a breath,
a moment suspended,
as if waiting for
the courage to unfold.
In this space of stillness,
a quiet understanding forms,
that some things are meant
to remain unsent.