Roots and Wings

Darkness holds it, firm yet kind,A silent whisper: “Grow, you’ll find.”Through soil thick with ancient past,It pushes forward, free at last.

Raindrops kiss its tender skin,A quiet promise: “Begin again.”The sun looks down with knowing eyes,And greets the sprout that dares to rise.

Seasons shift, and winds will call,Branches rise and leaves will fall.Growth is slow, with pain it sings,But roots grow deep, and so do wings.

The child who once feared the night,Now basks beneath the silver light.Each scar, a tale of battles won,Each wrinkle, proof of rising sun.

The caterpillar, meek and small,Crawls unseen along the wall.Through endless hunger, silent fight,It spins its tomb in fading light.

Wrapped in stillness, hushed cocoon,No rush, no fear, it hums a tune.What once was bound now finds its flight,A whispered dream of wings so bright.

The river twists, the mountain stands,Both are shaped by time’s own hands.The waves will crash, the earth may quake,Yet every crack lets morning wake.

A poet scribbles lines unknown,A painter spills their heart in tones.A singer hums a tune of rain,Each note a thread of joy and pain.

For growth is silent, slow, unseen,A whispered tale, a space between.Through loss, through love, through breaking free,We bloom into who we’re meant to be.

So let the roots go deep, be still,Let time refine with patient will.And when the wind calls soft and true,Spread your wings—life waits for you.