At dawn the silent water softly sighs,

A lotus stirs beneath the amber sky,

Unfolding where the shadowed river lies.

From ancient mud it lifts its crown on high,

A fragile flame that night could not confine,

As first light paints its petals warm and dry.

Each silken fold awakens line by line,

A breath of life the sleeping earth once knew,

Where water, soil, and sun in grace align.

The petals part to drink the morning dew,

Their tender curves in quiet longing spread,

A blush of pink beneath the newborn blue.

From murky depths the living blossom led

The promise that all darkness can give birth—

That beauty blooms where silent tears were shed.

And there it sways, a pulse within the earth,

Creation’s sigh upon the waking air,

A symbol of returning light and worth.

The dawn itself seems gentler resting there,

Where sun-kissed petals tremble, soft and wise,

And whisper rebirth rising everywhere.