To the ones whose hearts now feel torn,
who wonder just why they were born—
you are not broken, only worn,
by winds that shape, not winds that scorn.
 
You who walk with silent screams,
crushed beneath forgotten dreams,
there’s more to you than what it seems—
you are the seed of hidden streams.
 
Even your pain, when held with grace,
will carve a softer, wiser face.
And loss, though cruel, will still give chase
to lead you home, to love’s own place.
 
You were never meant to be
a perfect light that’s always free.
But rather, one who learns to see
the light inside the tragedy.
 
Your steps may falter in the night,
but every breath still births new sight.
So pause, but don’t give up the fight—
your soul remembers how to rise.
 
Let every tear anoint your way,
Let silence teach you how to pray.
And if you’re lost—then let it stay,
for sometimes lost is where you’ll find
the map that never spoke in lines