Mercy came knocking once, a pale wanderer draped in dawn, with weary eyes and gentle hands, carrying no sword, only the burden of understanding. But the wicked knew not her face. Their hearts were citadels of stone, where compassion died unnamed and every wound became a weapon. They barred the gates. For mercy is a stranger in the hearts of the wicked. She walks their halls unseen, a ghost among shadows, whispering of forgiveness to ears that worship vengeance. They drink from poisoned wells and call bitterness wisdom. They sharpen grief into blades and wear cruelty like a crown. Where mercy offers a bridge, they build a wall. Where mercy kneels, they strike. And so she leaves quietly, taking her light with her, while darkness settles deeper into chambers already cold. The wicked do not fear mercy, they fear what mercy reveals: that beneath their iron masks, beneath their kingdoms of pride, beneath the ruins they call strength, there lives a trembling truth they dare not face. For merc...
When your life feels steady, calm, and bright,
When roads are clear and days feel right,
Pause your steps, soften your tone
Don’t walk as if you rose alone.
When all is sorted, plans align,
When fortune seems forever mine,
Do not brag of what you own,
Pride builds walls you’ll face alone.
Don’t treat others as less or small,
Today’s silence is not their fall.
A struggling hand, a humble face,
May soon rise strong in time and place.
Remember this: no fate is sealed,
No future fully yet revealed.
What they lack now may soon appear,
Tomorrow’s wealth could draw them near.
The poor today may stand up tall,
The quiet voice may one day call.
And in your hour of doubt or need,
They might be the help you plead.
So choose respect, let kindness stay,
Life turns its wheel in quiet ways.
What you give now will one day be
The bridge that brings humility.
© 2025 Gloria Penelope
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