What I Can’t Hold

What I Can’t Hold

I can’t hold the weather in my hands,

nor twist the sky to suit my plans.

The past, a shadow I can’t erase,

lingers silent, a hidden face.

I can’t shape the thoughts of others’ minds,

or chase their hearts where feeling blinds.

Their actions move like distant seas,

beyond my grasp, a whispered breeze.

But I can speak with steady voice,

and frame my days by my own choice.

Set goals like stars, both near and far,

and walk the path of who we are.

I own the weight of my mistakes,

draw lines where soul and sorrow aches.

Pick friends like blooms, both bold and rare,

and guard the fire of self-aware.

So I will rest in what is mine,

the unseen threads of my own spine.

Let what I can’t control be still,

while I bend the world to my own will.