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Poem

There will be days when no one will grasp the depth of your hidden feelings,
and that's okay, a silent complicity that embraces your soul like a cloak of mystery,
days when your words will get lost in the ether, no matter how loudly your heart longs to be heard,
and that's okay, an echo that returns only to you, like a whisper of the wind through leaves.
There will be moments when people will stop believing in your stories,
as if your dreams were paintings too large for the small frame of their world,
and even then, that's okay, an illusion that dissipates like smoke at dawn, making way for reality.
You will wake up hoping for a sunlit morning, but the clouds will cry in your stead,
you will reach out for the rays of warmth, but meet only the relentless cold of silence,
and it will hurt, a pain that will refine your soul like an unseen sculptor, shaping your essence.
But you will survive, and that's good, because even the rain nourishes the roots of flowers to grow into the light,
and the deep darkness teaches the stars to find their own brilliance in the vastness of the sky.
You don't need to be seen to continue shining like a beacon in the night,
you don't need to be heard to prove the strength that lies steadfast within you,
because even when no one sees you, hears you, or believes in you,
you will still become something beautiful, a flower blooming in the silence of the field,
you will become all that you are meant to be, a universe of endless possibilities and dreams.

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