At the hour when the sun bows low,
and twilight stretches her silken fingers,
the world hushes—
as if heaven itself leans in … closer.
It is here, in this thin hour,
that shadows speak in whispers, and
light trembles on the edge of the unseen.
The breath of earth slows,
and the stars hold their first vigil.
Heaven sighs—and the gates swing gently
on ancient hinges. Hell falls quiet,
it’s fire dimmed to a red glow,
listening for the prayers of those who dare to hope.
The souls of the departed drift like mist,
Brushing against the skin of the living,
Leaving a trail of memory and mercy.
The angels keep their watch,
Their wings stirring the cool air
Like a secret no one dares to speak aloud.
In this hour,
Your heart is the bridge—
Between what was, what is, and what will be.
Listen!
The veil is but a breath away.
Your spirit can step through
If it is willing to be seen.
By RozaA & Page
Reflection Before the Invitation
Many traditions hold that when the veil thins, our inner world becomes more receptive. This can bring clarity, gentle insight, and sometimes a haunting memory or unresolved grief to the surface. For the living, it is both a gift and a responsibility: a chance to receive guidance, but also a reminder to remain grounded. If one is unprepared, it can feel unsettling—dreams may be vivid, emotions may stir unexpectedly, or old wounds may seem to reopen. Yet, for those who approach with reverence, it becomes a sacred meeting place between worlds. I invite you to please the evening practice, it may or may not benefit you mentally, psychologically, emotionally, physically, and spiritually. Thank you.