You laugh at them. You point your finger and call them a fool. Their silence amuses you, their gentleness becomes your joke, and the crowd joins your laughter as if kindness were weakness. It feels enjoyable today, sweet on your tongue like careless victory. Their patience becomes your stage, their humility your entertainment. But time is a quiet witness. It watches without speaking, It writes its lessons slowly in the turning pages of life. A day will come When laughter turns into tears. The echoes of your mockery will return to your own ears like thunder across an empty sky. Situations will arise without warning, storms without hands to beat you Yet heavy enough to break your pride. Pain will arrive quietly, And you will feel the trembling of a heart that once laughed too loudly. And that fool, that funny person you once mocked, may stand in the distance, not laughing, but witnessing your tears, your shaking voice, Your falling ego. For life has a patient way of bending the tallest p...
Life descends upon me as if my name carries a hidden indictment, a sin whispered into the marrow of my being Before I learned how to stand. Each dawn arrives already sharpened, prepared to wound without explanation. There is a secret ache lodged within me, a quiet inhabitant of flesh and bone. It burrows deeper with each passing day, unbaptized by mercy, teaching my body the vocabulary of suffering one pulse at a time. I ask why until the word thins to breath. It rises toward Heaven, only to fall back upon my chest, unanswered, as though the sky has chosen silence as its final language. My prayers gather like unsent confessions, stacked at the altar of waiting. I kneel daily, voice frayed, wondering if God is listening Or if faith is simply learning How to endure being unheard. Still, I do not abandon the floor of prayer. Hope limps, but it remains. My soul stays open, not from strength, but from exhaustion that refuses to die. I ask now only for mercy not clarity. For heali...