Tomorrow is pregnant

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Tomorrow is pregnant with the dreams we weave,
Its belly round with the whispers we leave,
In the quiet moments of a dusky eve,
Where shadows dance and moments grieve.

The dawn yet to break holds secrets tight,
In its womb, the promise of new light,
Nurtured by stars in the silent night,
Each twinkling spark a wish in flight.

Beneath the horizon, the future swells,
With tales untold, in hidden wells,
Where hopes and fears in twilight dwell,
In the space between the ring of bells.

Time, the midwife, stands so still,
Her hands poised on the window sill,
Watching as the moments spill,
From the cup of fate’s uncertain fill.

In the heartbeat of the coming day,
Lies the essence of what we say,
Our breaths, our songs, our quiet pray,
Woven in the fabric of the may.

Tomorrow’s eyes are soft and kind,
Gazing forward, never blind,
Seeking paths we’ve yet to find,
With hearts and souls combined.

The labor pains of time do ache,
With every choice we dare to make,
Each step a ripple on life’s lake,
A tender echo in the wake.

So as the night begins to fade,
And morning paints with light its shade,
We await the birth, unafraid,
Of tomorrow’s child, with love portrayed.

For in its arms, the world will see,
A tapestry of what might be,
The dreams, the hopes, the destiny,
In the endless womb of eternity.

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