Moment to Stand

By Morning Star

Is it luck, or is it just a game?
Some lose health, while others gain.
Some have no money to earn or to spare—
Yet they are rich, with family to care.

To be troubled and ill is a terrible loss,
Like freedom stripped,
Like bombs being tossed.

Poverty. Pain. Regret. And fear—
Everyone holds a story... a tear.

Maybe the thief who's stealing bread
Is feeding a child the world left for dead.
And the beggar you pass with a hardened face
Can’t escape his shadowed place.

That preacher shouting in the square—
He might be lost, or crying for care.
The painter whose strokes you stand and adore
Could be a prophet… or survivor of war.

So when you walk through the market square,
Just take a moment—pause. Be aware.
Every person you see has worth.
Each carries heaven. Each walks the earth.

They all have value.
A place. A key.
A reason to be—
Just like you.
And me.