by Liam

There are days

when the road closes in around you,

when the air thickens

with the weight of unfinished questions,

With the fragrance of misunderstood answers. 

Yet the wound of the moment

is rarely the thing that breaks the heart.

It is the quiet whisperer

that tells me:

This is how it will always be.

That voice builds a house

inside your mind,

nails the windows shut,

dims the lamps of your tomorrow.

Our magnificent soul was not made

for sealed rooms, though.

Somewhere beyond that taught and learned horizon

An unseen tide is already turning;

the dusty field beneath these feet

is quietly gathering green.

Not one winter has ever convinced the earth

that spring was impossible.

And no difficulty

no matter how stern its face,

has ever possessed the final word.

So should the night lean heavily upon you,

Remind and remember this hidden kindness of time:

“What tries to destroy you

is not the path through the mountain,

but the belief

that the mountain will never move.”

Lift your gaze friend.

Every single stone

is learning slowly 

how to become sand on the beach.