Writers 
The Good Morrow
When darkness folds its wings away,
And morning paints the sky with gold,
A gentle breeze begins to say,
“Arise, for life is yours to hold.”
The stars retreat, the moon grows pale,
The sun awakens from the night;
Across the hills, the birds unveil
Their songs beneath the rising light.
The good morrow comes without a sound,
Yet carries hope upon its breath;
It walks through every sleeping ground
And calls the living back from rest.
Yesterday may have left a scar,
A dream may have fallen apart,
But morning proves that wounds, however hard,
Cannot forever rule the heart.
So lift your eyes and face the day,
Let courage be your morning flame;
The road may twist, the skies turn grey,
But you are not defined by pain.
Each sunrise is a blank new page,
A chance to write a brighter tale;
To leave behind yesterday's cage
And let determination sail.
The good morrow whispers, “Try again,”
When yesterday said, “You have failed.”
It turns our losses into strength
And makes the broken spirit brave.
There may be storms along the way,
And clouds that hide the morning sun;
But even storms must fade someday,
And every race can still be run.
So welcome morning with a smile,
Embrace the promise in the air;
Walk boldly through each passing mile,
And meet the future without fear.
For life is more than yesterday,
More than the tears we had to cry;
The good morrow brings another day,
Another chance to reach the sky.
And when the evening comes at last,
With all its stories, joy, and sorrow,
May you look back upon the past
And proudly say, “I chose tomorrow.”
So rise, dear heart, the dawn is here;
Let hope arise and dreams grow strong.
The good morrow has drawn near—
A brand-new day, a brand-new song.
