The Pendulum Swing

Do not turn it back again,

let me walk where I have not been.

Let the hours rush like rivers,

teaching me how to swim.

Laughter lives not in stone,

but in moments still unnamed.

Faces change like passing skies,

warmth learning how to remain.

Time owes us no mercy,

clocks were never meant to weep.

I will spend each fleeting second,

before memory learns to sleep.

The pendulum does not bow,

so I move when it moves too.

If all we have are echoes,

then I will make them new.

Becoming

In light where voices dare to rise,

where silence learns to speak,

Truths are stitched from living breath,

not threads too frail to keep.

Not stars that vanish at the dawn,

but suns that choose to stay.

Each moment rooting deeper,

instead of drifting away.

What once was bound to fading

now lingers, warm and real.

Some things are meant to last,

long enough to heal.

Unfinished

Strength sharpens who we are,

hope widens what we see.

Not wholeness that looks backward,

but becoming endlessly.

We are not fixed or final,

not the sum of what we were.

We are the version that is still unfolding,

braver, louder, and more certain.

Perfection is not the goal,

nor the end of the fight.

Growth is choosing every day,

to step into the light without certainty.