Sunrise Pulse, Promise Rising

Sunrise sounds great, but if you’re dreaming, make sure you’re also keeping the oil changed. Hard work beats a poem any day. Just remember: the road’s a promise, not a lullaby.

I can almost feel that sunrise pulse humming against my own chest, yet I’m still haunted by the doubt that the promise might fade before dawn. Still, it’s a gentle reminder that even stubborn clouds will eventually let the light seep in. Your words make me want to draft a story about that lighthouse, though I might procrastinate for weeks before the first page even turns.