Holy space

The night has not yet left,
It's tendrils cling to this in between.
Warding off daylight as crickets
Softly chirp their night song.
Trying to calm the busy traffic,
The birds first song of light and morning
Only a chirp against the silent night
And the clouds block the sun.
They do not help the image of
Daylight to materialize beyond
The breeze blows through the trees
Joining in a false whispered hush,
So as not to rush fully the passing
Of night, hold onto the dark, the silence,
That quiet born in the gazing stars
That watch and sing of rest, of
Yearning for this in between calm
Before the frantic frenzy if what is next.
Just lay down the burden of purpose
And pull on the blanket of standing still.
So that one beat will draw you
Into the Holy Presence of silence.