People wait all day for 5 PM. All week for Friday. All Summer for Winter. All Winter for Summer And all their lives for happiness. Don't let the pursuit of tomorrow diminish the joy of today.

Do not wait for some distant face to grant your love a rightful place. Perfection drifts in vacant skies, but joy lives now, where heartbeat lies. This body here, this breath, this day already knows the light’s own way. No need to trade the now for when the present longs to hold you in. Unmake the deals with later hours, they steal the roots from living flowers. Today is not a borrowed land; it asks only your open hand. So love the flaws, the weathered skin, the tender ache you carry in. The heart is wild, unfinished, true its broken places let light through. For happiness is not a prize reserved for stars beyond your eyes. It comes to those who dare to choose the life that’s here, not one they lose and let it bloom, untamed, unposed, right where the present has been closed open.

The clouds will pass, The storm will end, And the trees will lose their leaves. Change is one thing you can be certain of.

My smile gleams like dawnlit gold, a sacred flame no price can hold. it is my own—no passing gaze can dim its fire or steal its blaze. Some drift through life like borrowed heat, a whispered touch, a brief retreat. they warm the air, then fade from view, as gentle winds are made to do. I guard the curve that crowns my face, a quiet vow, a chosen grace. it carries strength the dark can’t see, a promise whispered back to me. And though the nights may stretch and ache, this light in me will never break. i do not fold for fleeting souls my smile endures, my spirit holds.

The river knows no borrowed time, it bends, it listens, keeps its rhyme. No race to win, no need to prove, it reaches seas by how it moves. Each measured step, though softly laid, still shapes the road your courage made. What seems like pause, what feels like slow, is growth the rushing never knows. The world may cry, “Be more, be fast,” but roots grow deep when moments last. Progress breathes in where you stand, not in the noise, but in your hand. Each heartbeat marks a quiet gain, each breath unknots a thread of strain. Truth unfolds—not sharp or loud, but gently, like a breaking cloud. Let patience guide your gentle hand, let quiet courage help you stand. For forward grows from every try, and even slow steps touch the sky.

They call my name a winter sound, a shadow cast, a curse unbound yet i was fire in their frost, the gentle warmth they never cost. I held their hands when nights were loud, when hope stood fragile, unavowed. I poured my light into their dark, left constellations, left a spark. I built them bridges out of fear, laid every stone with love sincere, and watched them cross to safer ground until my voice became the sound They chose to doubt, to twist, to bend yet still i know how it began. No shield i sought, no praise i claimed, i trusted time to know my name. for what is true needs no defense it grows in calm, in consequence. Let storms declare what they believe, i stand unbroken, still i breathe. above their thunder, clear and tall, i rise in grace—and that is all.

I keep my visions under skin, where silent labors first begin. No borrowed gaze, no whispered sign, Each careful motion wholly mine. I plant my days in unseen ground, where roots grow deep without a sound. No bloom betrays the work below, no trace of how the dark must grow. The world will wait—unaware, unwise. until the hush learns how to rise, until the quiet breaks in flame and speaks its long-remembered name. What slept in shadow, shaped with care, emerges sharpened by the air a truth so earned, so clean, so clear, it leaves no room for doubt or fear. Until that hour, my lips are closed, my strength conserved, my patience poised. By sweat, by faith, by steady art, the secret blooms and leaves its mark.