Even the earth struggles with finite woes when the horizon calls like a distant dream. Leaving our unchatered minds to imagine beyond the vastness. Secrets of the stars,  and rhythm of the auroras.
A timeless wonder indeed! Inspiring the  adventures of men in the moon, space and beyond.
Nevertheless, the infinite depth of what was, what is and what will be will forever remain is to uphold
And even though the cosmos may seem so far. Every being knows its path beneath the sun. For each footstep, big or small, strong or fragile. It found the courage to grow and stand tall
Through valleys of doubt, over mountains of fear,
With every stride, the path becomes clear.
Each step a story, a dream taking flight,
A journey unfolding, from darkness to light.
The ground may tremble, the winds may howl,
Every bruise, every scar, a mark of grace,
That shows the courage to continue the race.
No matter the size, no matter the pace,
The steps we take, leave an indelible trace.
For every challenge, we find the strength to stand,
Each footstep a testament to the soul’s command.
Finding  a place admist eternal praise.

Courage
It can be found
In unexpected moments
When someone rises
Up to meet the challenge
Either through actions
Or words
Or both
It can be someone
That stands up
Even when it’s hard
For what’s right
What we know deeply
In our hearts of hearts
Or someone that walks
Into danger to help
Or a healer helping the ill
Courage is everywhere
In adults and children
Around the world
There are those
That stand up
Speak out
Even when it’s difficult
Unpopular
They do it
At a time of turmoil
In the world
With pandemics
Wars
Unrest and violence
We need the courageous
More than ever

Witnesses of all time.
On holy grounds they are.
Many people laid to rest everywhere over millions of years.
Living further in green suits,
majestic and tall.
In all shapes and forms.
People come and go.
Look at them standing now.

Forest full of green
Our ancestors watching.
Giving us oxygen to breathe.
Handle it with care.


Shell✨🐚

Art is born in a poets hand,
Though, like the fragile flower it is,
Art always crumbles to dust.

It drags the poet with it too,
For deep in their heart it grows its roots.
So when it fades, wrapping tight around their sickly heart,
The beating stops and they drop.