There is a certain stillness that arrives only when the world has settled—when the last car has passed, the final light has dimmed, and even the wind seems to hold its breath. This is the hour at the end of the night, just before dawn begins to whisper.
In this quiet space, thoughts grow clearer. The noise of the day recedes, and what remains are the echoes of choices made, words spoken, and silences kept. It is a time for reflection, not regret; for gratitude, not guilt.
At the end of the night, we are closest to ourselves. No roles to play, no masks to wear—just the raw honesty of being. And in that honesty, there is peace.