You gave capacity to think I could aim higher;
Doors keep closing in my face, in this ever-changing world.
I still keep praying that my path aligns with your vision of me—
I keep stumbling, as though I am blind.
Will it ever happen, or am I designed in perfection
To learn to dream and let it go?
It would have felt so good, if my fate favored me.
Still, I keep moving, thinking I carry no ill intentions;
One day you will have to come for me,
Knowing I still do not know if my prayers ever reach your ears.
On the eve of Valentine's Day, I remember the saint who coined it,
Thinking love is creation, and everlasting.
Perhaps the walls aren't barriers, but a curated frame,
Carving out a narrow path that only I can name.
The saint held onto courage while the world was turning cold,
Writing lines of lightning for a story yet untold.
So I’ll trade my steady footing for the grace to simply stand,
Trusting there’s a logic in the shifting of the sand.
If love is truly limitless, then hope is not a whim—
The light is still a promise, even when the stars are dim.
For even in the silence, where the echoes seem to stray,
The potter hasn't left the clay; He’s just working in the gray.
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