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...
Life starts without anything no riches, no fame, no story to tell. You arrive quietly like morning with nothing but air around you. You have nothing in your hands no land to call yours a new beginning, a moment of birth. The world is big a road you have not walked You walk it like it is yours. You collect things, chase goals you want more you measure how good you are by what you have. You fill rooms with stuff put your name on things but all the things you have are not really yours. Time moves slowly quickly it takes things you love changes what you know and leaves you wondering what is still real. You run after what you want you hold on tight you work hard you try to be better. But the road keeps turning it never stays still All the things you have will go away. In the end there is quiet a breath, no money in your pocket no prize to win. Just memories of moments of love and pain like footprints washed away by rain. You leave like you came, no less no titles to carry no need for things...