In the quiet chambers of the night,
Whispers of illness softly tread,
A shadowed dance beneath the moon,
Where weary souls find their bed.

The wind carries tales of longing,
Through corridors of silent tears,
Yet in the heart, a spark remains,
A beacon cutting through the fears.

As dawn unfolds its gentle light,
Healing whispers start to sing,
The body wakes to newfound strength,
And hope begins to spread its wings.

Through every storm, a calm will come,
In every wound, a chance to mend,
Together, we embrace the dawn,
Where sickness and healing blend.