My voice may not be sung.
But tis in the things done
In the choices I make —
Good, bad. Unknown, they leave their wake —
In the stories wrote,
In the battles fought.
In the colours I paint,
And decisions without constraint.
On the quiet places, it resonates,
Growing deeper with faith,
The tune changes,
With the new victories, He arranges.
What is victory?! How can we quantify it? And who claims it, you or I?