Some mornings he woke while the sky was still black. No sign of dawn. No light. No reason to believe a new day would come.

But he heard a bird singing. A very small sound. A sound that did not wait for the sun.

He wrote: “Faith is the bird that feels the light while the dawn is still dark.”

Not blind belief. Not hope. Not philosophy.

Just a recognition: light can be felt before it is seen.

In that moment, he no longer waited for dawn to trust the light. He needed only a bird’s song. A small sign. A gentle rhythm.

And the way in opened — from a sensing that required no proof.

Not through seeing. But through feeling.