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Poem

Under the sky laden with mystery, where the wind sings its endless tales,
Life begins to sketch your outlines, even when you are not prepared,
Just as a tree does not know how to bend until the wind shows it,
The art of not breaking under the burden of storms that embrace it forcefully.
Like a river that seeks its path among the stones that shape its course,
Without a map in hand, but with the trust that every turn has a purpose,
Like a cloud floating without a clear aim, yet the sky carries it onward,
Enveloping it with the promise that, wherever it goes, it is home.
Think of a seed, deeply buried in the earth, cold and lonely,
Until the rain gently whispers that it can grow, that it can spread its roots,
Or a colored pencil, worn and broken, yet still able to color beauty,
Borrowing from its soul the hues of a light that does not fade.
Like a puzzle that seems just a chaos of pieces, but slowly,
Each part finds its place, revealing the image hidden behind the disorder,
Sometimes you will feel lost, like a leaf adrift in an endless forest.
And that's okay, for life shows you who you are, even when you do not know.
Even when the steps are heavy, even when the path seems steep,
We learn, we change, we become stronger with every breath,
Perhaps this is the essence of life—not to know everything, but to grow anyway,
So if even a tree learns to bend, what stops you,
From becoming what you are meant to be, from spreading your wings in the unknown dance,
Under the vast sky where every story is written with letters of light and shadow,
Learn to bend, to rise, to find your balance amid the storms,
For in every fall there is a rebirth, in every end, a new beginning.

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