Sleeping Under the Stars
By Adika A. Toussaint / HumbleLove
The morning air was still and calm,
The sky draped in a misty gray,
With lingering stars still holding space
Before the break of day.
Along the pavement, quiet steps,
A gentle, rhythmic beat,
Until my eyes caught shadow-forms
Resting on the street.
A piece of cardboard for a bed,
No walls to block the cold,
A sacred life, a child of God,
With stories left untold.
Society may name them lost,
Or turn away the gaze,
But Heaven sees its likeness here,
Beyond our worldly ways.
I wonder how the path unfolded,
How the turn was made,
To sleep beneath the open sky
Where fragile shadows fade.
Yet under misty morning stars,
The truth remains divine:
Their breath is sacred as my own,
Their dignity, like mine.
A Note from the Roadside
It started on a quiet morning pavement walk. The atmosphere was perfectly still, the weather calm, and the misty sky was softly lit by a few remaining stars. Then, in the corner of my eye, I saw a figure lying on a piece of cardboard.
Worldly labels come easily to society, but truth speaks differently: we are all made in His image and likeness. What lingers in my heart is the quiet wonder of how someone arrives at such a state of living—the untold trials, the unseen turns in the road. Yet, under that same starry canopy, no one is forgotten.
