The wait is over now, the endless hours
Have trickled past like rain on windowpanes,
Each drop a weight upon the mind and heart.
But in His timing, not in mine, it comes—
The sun breaks through the clouds, and morning breathes,
A slow release, a sigh that fills the sky.
No longer do we count the ticking clocks,
Nor measure days by empty hands or dreams.
The time we thought would never come has come,
But not by will of mine, by His design.
The doors that held us back now open wide,
And every step is lighter than the last.
But now the real work waits, the soil to till,
The seeds of promise planted long ago
Must find their bloom in labor and in trust,
As all the waiting fades like mist at dawn.