There was a man who lived beside a walled garden, and every morning at dawn the gate stood
unlocked.
The night watch ended quietly, and the city was still half asleep. The man often lingered near the
gate, enjoying the calm and warmth of the rising sun. But while his body rested, his guard was low.
Weeds crept in quickly at that hour—not because he invited them, but because no one was watching.
One morning, he chose to rise as soon as the light appeared. He closed the gate, picked up his
tools, and began tending the garden before the city stirred. The weeds lost their hold, not through
struggle, but through readiness.
He learned that the garden was never weakest at midnight—but at dawn, when beauty and
vulnerability met.