Prayer for the Quiet Hours

Let this morning be soft, like first breath after dreaming,
where the world moves slow, and nothing is needed.
No wars to win, no fires to quench—
just the stillness of hearts in a room that’s enough.

Let the light drip in through the window,
not like a flood, but like a hand on a shoulder,
gentle, unassuming, a reminder that being here—just here—
is a kind of grace we forget too easily.

Let every small thing be sacred,
the way the coffee steams, the way the sky doesn’t rush.
And if there’s a prayer in my chest today,
let it be this: to live like this hour—quiet, alive, whole.