It's 3 A.M.

From 3 A.M. to Dawn

It's 3 A.M.

The world has forgotten how to speak.

The streets wear silence like a sacred robe,

and I sit upon my rooftop,

watching the moon carry the secrets

that no one was brave enough to tell the day.

The wind whispers in a language

only sleepless hearts understand.

Time moves gently,

as if afraid to disturb the peace

wrapped around this fragile night.

The stars remain awake with me,

patient witnesses to every unspoken prayer,

every hidden tear,

every dream waiting for its morning.

Then, from somewhere beyond the quiet,

the Adhan of Fajr begins to rise.

Its melody slips through the darkness

like the first ray of mercy,

reminding every wandering soul

that no night is endless.

The sky slowly changes its heart.

Black becomes blue,

blue becomes gold,

and hope quietly returns with the light.

The moon bows before the sun,

the stars disappear without regret,

and the world wakes again

unaware that the night

has healed someone in silence.

Between midnight and dawn,

I learned that darkness was never the end.

It was simply God's way

of making us notice

how beautiful the first light truly is.

- Mehfuza Sultana