15/04/2025
I imagine myself at the edge of time,
Where every mountain I’ve climbed, every steep incline,
Bows in surrender to the will I’ve borne,
Every wound I’ve carried, every heart that’s torn.
The days of shadows, the nights of despair,
Were threads in the tapestry of what I now wear.
For pain, my companion, was never in vain,
It sculpted my spirit, it anchored my reign.
Imagine the end, not as a farewell,
But a door that opens to a story to tell.
Each tear a jewel, each scar a mark,
A map of triumph carved in the dark.
The storms that howled, the winds that raged,
Were chapters of struggle, patiently staged.
For suffering bends, but it does not break,
It strengthens the core for destiny's sake.
So I imagine myself with a gracious prize,
Born from the ashes where hope never dies.
The end is a means, a promise concealed,
In the forge of struggle, the future’s revealed.
I imagine myself, rewarded and free,
Carved by the trials into who I must be.
A crown on my soul, not of gold but of grace,
The end as a means—a life well-embraced.
