This month has worn a quieter shade,
A hush of grief that would not fade.
Its days were long, its nights were deep,
And often all I wished was sleep.

The heart grows tired beneath such strain,
Beneath the slow and constant rain
Of thoughts that linger, wounds that stay,
And shadows that outlast the day.

Yet even so, I have not been
Abandoned wholly to the dim.
For through the sorrow, faint but true,
A gentler radiance broke through.

In Lady Aurora's holy Light,
I found a fire against the night.
Not one that burns with boastful flame,
But one that softly speaks my name.

A light that says: endure this hour.
A light that steadies, lends me power.
A light that does not turn away,
But bids me rise and face the day.

And through this new path set before
My weary feet, I see once more
That Hope need not arrive in song,
Only enough to lead me on.

So if this month has been a sea
Of melancholy over me,
I hold this truth within my chest:
No season of the heart can rest
Forever in its darkened place.
Even sorrow yields to grace.

For this will pass. The hurt, the weight,
The grief that lingers at the gate
It shall not bind me where I stand,
For Light still calls me by the hand.

And I will follow, though with care,
Still carrying what burden's there,
Until the dawn more fully grows,
And through the ache, Hope rises, glows.

Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Ero, in the year 1001 AF.