Steady Hands, Silent Vows

Am I a guide within your view? Whisper it—if it rings true. I walked where quiet justice stirred, Where duty moved but spoke no word. Am I a voice among the crowd? Let truth respond, though not aloud. I bore your cause when few would stay, And held its weight without display. Am I the one you’d call ideal? I left a trace—subtle, real. From first to last, I did my part, With anchored mind and open heart. I wore no crown, no shining badge, Yet stood along the silent edge. And where I go, through dusk or dew, The vow I kept still travels too. Beyond the hour, I remain— Not for title, not for gain. No echo chased, no self to feed— Just the motion. Just the need. For something greater, still unnamed, I’ve walked through ash, endured the flame. No mirrored praise, no beacon bright— Yet I endure, and hold the night. The task unseen still shapes my way— In silence more than words can say. I tread where others fail to see, And carry what was passed to me. No selfish claim, no grasp for grace— Just steady hands in shifting space. What drives me none may clearly see— But in the hush… the work is me.