Don’t Give Up

When the night leans heavy on your shoulders,

and the wind scrawls sorrow across your window,

remember—the dawn has never failed

to climb the hills of silence.

Do not give up, though the road bends

into shadows where no lantern glows.

The seed beneath the frozen earth

still dreams of spring,

its pulse a quiet promise

to rise again.

Life is not a straight river,

but a turning, restless stream

that polishes every stone it touches.

You too are being shaped—

by the trials, by the storms,

by the very weight you thought would break you.

Hold fast. Even the smallest flame

can scatter a thousand miles of dark.

Somewhere beyond this weary hour,

a sky is opening,

a song is waiting,

and your spirit will learn to fly.